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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Lazarus by Rachael Ross (F/MF, Fantasy, Religion, Vampires, Angels, Violent, Drugs)
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Date: Wed, 20 Jun 2007 00:10:02 -0400
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Lazarus

Copyright 2007 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for adults
only.
Story Codes: F/MF, Fantasy, Religion, Vampires, Angels, Violent, Drugs

Note: This story has characters and events previously written in "The
Secret Way of It" and it is part of the "RBVS" ...that stands for Really
Big Vampire Story...Which includes "Runaway Dream" and "Long Fall to
Forever" in addition to "Secret Way"...It's pretty complicated. -rr

=-=-=-=-=-

Lazarus
by rache


She was cute, I'd give her that. One of Nabakov's little demons, a
temptress who looked all of 15 at the most, but she was old as
starlight.

"What're you lookin' at?" She asked me, moving down three short steps
from the mobile home we were living in at the time.

"Stars." I barely glanced at her, deliberately because if I hadn't
made a point of it I'd have looked at her all night long and nothing
else. It's happened before.

"I brought you a coke." She set the can down on the old metal table
next to the lawn chairs. It had been painted white for a little while,
now it was red with rust, black in the moonlight.

"It's the oldest thing in the universe." I talked around the cigarette
in my mouth. I had my hands behind my head and I didn't feel much like
moving them.

"What?"

"Starlight." I breathed. "It's older than the stars that made it."

"It ain't older than me." She sat down, stretching her long legs out
in front of her, digging her bare heels into the hard dirt. She was
naked, like she'd just been born.

"I know." I pinched my camel and looked at it, took another puff and
tossed it away. "But you ain't in the universe, are you?"

"Not hardly." She laughed, tossing her black hair back from her red-
rimmed eyes. She had a generous mouth.

"So." I shrugged.

"Now I know why he likes you so much." She observed, taking a sip of
her own soda.

"He?" I kept looking up. "Who's he? God?"

"God?" She really did laugh then. "No, not Him. Don't be silly."

"There's a lot of he's out there." I smiled at the Big Dipper.

"Livermore."

"Livermore? Livermore...live er more..." I shrugged.

"Yeah, he says you know the secret."

"I used to, but then I forgot it." I looked over her, just on my way
to see my coke, and it hurt for a second, making me wince.

"Maybe that's the secret." She giggled.

"Maybe." I opened my soda with a snick and a fizzle.

"Anyway, he likes you."

"Well, that's always good to know." I nodded, taking a drink. "If he
comes for me, I'm still killing him though."

"You can't kill death." She poured coca-cola across her stomach,
rubbing it into her flesh experimentally.

"I can." I had to watch her, I didn't have a choice.

"So you say." She was smiling. "I want to take a bath in this stuff."

"Why?"

"Because, it feels nice. Like the fire, especially when it's cold like
this."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious." She stared at me. "You have no idea what it's like
being here. If you did, you'd let me go."

"I know exactly what it's like being here." I lifted my left arm,
gesturing around us. "I live here, remember?"

"I don't."

I shrugged at that. "When did you see Livermore anyway?"

"The other day. He stopped by, you know." She giggled at my little
frown. "Don't be jealous, Laz."

"I'm not." I drank some coke, as if to prove my nonchalance.

"Yes you are." She took a little breath, like a sigh through her pert
little nose, and looked up. "Still human after all these years."

"Barely."

"You complain too much."

"I don't complain at all." I protested. "You're the one bringing all
this up. I'm just watching the sky."

"Same thing. Watching the sky..." She was smiling, I could hear it. "...
Complaining. It all comes to the same thing in the end."

"I didn't know you were a philosopher."

"Aren't we all?" She tapped her fingers on the taut skin of her
stomach. "Sticky."

"The kid next door was asking about you." I said, but I was lying. I
just wanted to change the subject.

"What kid?" That got her attention and I smiled to myself.

"The red head, Shelly, or Shirley." I shrugged. "That 6 year old next
door."

"Shania." Uzi corrected me.

"Whatever. She wanted to know why you don't have a belly button." The
thought had just come to me and I almost spoiled it by laughing.

"She did not."

"She did, I swear to God." I said seriously, taking the opportunity to
blaspheme. "She asked me how come my friend ain't even got no belly
button."

"I know you're lying now."

"I said, 'Well...She came from an egg!' " I laughed.

"Heh." Uzi smiled despite herself. The truth was that nobody ever saw
her, not her beautiful face, not her perfect form, and certainly not
her lack of a belly button.

"Angels come from eggs." I smiled under my breath. "Another mystery
solved." We were quiet for a long while, until the sun was just
starting to draw the horizon pink.

"Lazarus..."

"Yeah?" I replied in that same soft voice

"Take me to bed. I'm tired."

She reached over, touching my arm and I was suddenly overwhelmed by
her grace. Uziel could make me feel whatever she desired, with a
glance, or a touch, or just a word. It was hardly fair, but that was
another condition of the universe.

=-=-=-=-=-=

"Jeez, I hate those fuckin' Yankees!" The guy next to me was saying.
It was still early back in New York, almost closing time here though.

I was sitting in 'Bram's, a little place just off the strip. I hadn't
been paying a lot of attention, and my Hebrew was rusty, so I'd kept
my head down and savored my Heineken. It was my first beer in a long,
fucking long time.

"Bet you don't like the Padres much either, eh?" I chuckled at my
little joke.

"What?" He was looking at me, but I ignored him.

Just like I was gonna ignore this Hebe.

"Hey baby, buy you a drink?"

"Fuck off." I turned away from him. He was third guy to hit on me in
the last half-hour and it was annoying.

"You know who I hate?" I asked the bartender. He'd been standing there
polishing glasses and listening to every word.

"Who's that?" He asked with a smile, expecting a punch line maybe.

"Jesus." I lifted my glass. "I really hate that nail pounding son of a
bitch."

The guy watching the ballgame looked at me again.

"And he can't even hit." I grinned. "Two-twenty lifetime." I was
nodding, as if I'd know that. "Tops."

"You uh, might want to slow down, miss." The bartender suggested and
that was funny as hell.

"Yeah." I laughed. "What's the rush, right?"

I stood up, throwing some Russian rubles on the bar, maybe some Canuck
money too. It looked a little orange. "Which way's the Wailing Wall
from here?" I asked the bartender. "I gotta take a leak."

I thought that was pretty humorous too, but no one else did. Jerusalem
was the same as it had always been, a dull, mirthless hole in the
middle of nowhere. I was only here to collect a debt and then I'd be
gone like the wind.

"Lazzzzzz..." It was like an old radiator dying, the way he said it.

"Oh." I caught his reflection in the window of a closed shop. "There
you are. I'd just about given up."

"This town isn't safe for you." The Angel of Death told me, and coming
from him the words carried a certain amount of weight. Or they would
have, under normal, regular conditions. But besides being me, I was a
little drunk too.

"You would know." I brushed a strand of long black hair from my eyes.

For some reason, well for a variety of reasons, I always found myself
posing for this guy. He was the only one in the entire world who made
me feel...horny. Even Uzi didn't make me feel like that; it was a death
thing, I thought and I hated him for it. I thrust my hips out a
little, tucking my thumbs in the small pockets of my leather hipsters,
and rocked my hips, just a little. He liked me too.

"I liked you better as a man, I think." Livermore said, materializing
finally and appearing as young man of 22 maybe, nicely dressed, but
the beard had to go. It was short and scrappy and made him look like a
French philosopher or something.

"I was never a man." I laughed at that and started walking, the angel
falling into step beside me.

"That's not what I read."

"You believe the Bible?" I glanced at him. "And how long you been
doing this job?"

"Too long..."

"Not long enough." I interrupted, my resentment finally showing. "Not
long enough to fuck my girlfriends."

"Who?" He looked at me and then turned away quickly. "Uzi...that bitch.
She said she wouldn't say anything."

"She talks in her sleep, man." I shook my head. "Never trust an
angel."

"Look, Laz, I'm sorry. I stopped by and she was there..." He held up his
hands. "...you know what she's like."

"Yeah." I had to agree with him there. Uziel could seduce Satan
himself, and had on at least two occasions that I knew about.

"It didn't mean nothing anyway."

"It meant something to me." I paused, turning to look at my best
friend. "It meant something."

"Yeah." Livermore nodded, looking down at his feet. "So...what? You want
to fight? Here?" He looked around. "This place has enough troubles
and..."

"No, I don't want to fight." I sighed. "What is it with you and
fighting all the time anyway?"

"Me?" He looked shocked. "Remember Chicago? The big fire? That wasn't
no cow, Laz, that was you! And where was that place...Chernobyl? Like
that was a bad steam valve...Come on! You're the one! And you fight
dirty."

"I fight to win." I shrugged. Chicago hadn't really been my fault, but
Chernobyl... "Anyway, I don't want to fight, but you owe me."

"Okay." He shrugged. "Just ask."

"I want that bastard, the German." I said.

"The German? Why? The guy's half-dead anyway..."

"I want him all the way dead." I was walking again.

"I'm not sure I can..."

"You're the fucking Angel of Death!" I rolled my eyes. "I'm not asking
for every new-born in Italy, just one old man. That's all."

"Well..." Livermore made a face. "...It's not that I can't do it, just
that, well...It's political, Laz, come on."

"Political?" I really did have to pee. "What's political about it? You
said yourself the guy's going soon anyway. Just give him a little push...
Tonight."

I undid my pants, pulling them and my thong down so I could squat on
the sidewalk.

"But..." The angel watched me.

"I can't go if you stare." I made a face at him.

"Just think about water...Niagara Falls, tumbling and splashing." He
grinned at me and he wasn't gonna look away.

"The faucet in my bathroom..." I stuck out my tongue.

"Tourists." Livermore looked over his shoulder and three drunk guys
were stumbling towards us.

"Everybody pisses." I shrugged and finally let my bladder go with a
sigh, spraying urine on the streets of Jerusalem, much as I'd done
2000 years before. Some things never change.

The guys walked past me lowly, staring and laughing. They were dark,
Palestinians breaking the faith, but that was their problem. I just
smiled at them while Livermore stood there with his arms folded,
smiling at me. They couldn't see him anyway.

"Tonight, Livermore." I stopped pissing finally, it had been a lot,
and I pulled up my clothes, bouncing on my heels to get those pants
over my hips again.

"If anyone finds out..." Livermore pursed his lips, but he'd do it. He
owed me.

"Who's gonna know?" I made an innocent face. "Not from me they won't."

"Come on." Livermore started walking again and we went a while in
silence. "This won't end it, you know. There are others involved, it
isn't just him."

"I know." I nodded. "You just do the Pope, and I'll take care of the
Jesuits." He looked at me questioningly. "Hey, I got a plan,
Livermore. I got it all figured out."

"Where are you staying?" He was putting a hand in the small of my back
and I shivered.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Can't stay long, the Boss has everybody running around like a bunch
of chickens." Michael had stopped by my hotel room.

"That right?" I stretched, pulling my too small t-shirt up over my
tummy and exposing my lily white panties.

"Uh-huh." He licked his lips, staring at my crotch.

"You want some?" I asked the Arch-Angel.

"What?" He swallowed hard.

"Do you want some..." I gestured at the tray on my bed, a hot breakfast
that had arrived about 2 minutes before he had. "...breakfast?"

"Oh." He looked momentarily embarrassed, and then fleetingly
disappointed.

"Have a seat, you make me nervous." I grinned, pointing at a chair.

He was ancient, like all angels, but in relative terms he was just a
kid. Arch-Angels were just about the weakest of the lot and everyone
pulled their chains mercilessly. People like me were the worst. Other
angels, demons, the odd celestial, they'd have fun...But it took a real
human being to understand humor. That was God's greatest gift to us,
in my humble opinion, a sense of humor to appreciate all the shit he
fucked up.

"So what's the deal?" I asked, stuffing my face with a Belgian Waffle.

"The Pope died last night." Michael put his lips together, nodding and
looking around the room so he could sneak looks at my crotch. I sat
Indian style, exposing myself as much as I could and I wished I had an
excuse to take the silly things off.

"The Pope, huh?" I chewed thoughtfully. "Good for him, lucky bastard."

"Good for..." Michael looked sharply at me and then enlightenment filled
his face. "...yeah, right. Sorry, Lazarus."

I shrugged. I'd been dead before and Jesus had pulled a miracle out of
his hat and raised me. The Bible got that much right. The stuff they
got wrong were all the little things, like the fact that I was a girl
for one thing, and the fact that since I'd been dead...and then got
raised...I couldn't die again. That was a biggie. It was the reason I'd
had PMS for the last two millennia.

"No big thing, Mike...Oops!" I spilled a little strawberry jelly on the
crotch of my panties and I rubbed it around with my finger, just
making a sugary red mess. It looked like virginal blood, actually, and
I was quite pleased with it.

The Arch-Angel froze in his seat and watched breathlessly.

"Shoot." I made clucking sounds and finally just straightened my legs
and took them my panties off, holding them up so we could inspect
them. "They're ruined." I looked at Michael and he was looking at my
little pussy. "And I don't have another pair." I sounded like I was
going to cry.

"Oh, ummm...." Michael licked his lips.

"Be a dear and ask the girls next door if I can borrow a pair, would
you Mikey?" I batted my eyelashes at him.

"Next door?" He glanced over his shoulder uncertainly.

"Yeah, there's a couple Swedish flight attendants or something...I don't
know." I shook my head. "They're right next door anyway, just go ask
them."

"Ask them." Michael nodded slowly.

"For a pair of panties." I nodded too. "Go on, hurry...I'm all naked
here."

"Uh, sure Lazarus, I'll uh..." He stood up, his handsome face turning
red.

"A thong if they have one." I added, just to rub it in.

Angels were so stupid sometimes and Michael...I mean the guy had gone
toe-to-toe with Lucifer, you know? He had a sword bigger than...well,
big enough to rend creation asunder, put it that way. But send the boy
out on a simple errand...

I ate my waffle slowly, waiting for him to come back, and rubbed my
clit a little.

"They didn't have any thongs." Michael apologized, his face burning
up. "But um, they had these..." He held out a pair of leopard print
bikini panties, pinching just a little of the nylon material between
his finger and thumb.

"You're such a dear." I smiled and sat there, making him come close
enough to lay them carefully on my bed. "So brave and strong too."

"Aw." He looked away, smiling and blushing. "It was easy."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Gabriel came around later, like three minutes after Michael left. And
I wasn't supposed to be suspicious? Heh...Angels were so predictable.

Angel cock is big, as a general rule, and Gab wasn't the sort to break
rules. So it was nice for me. It felt an awful lot like rape, the way
I took him. I had him on his back, those broad white wings spread
wide, and I plucked one while I rode his cock hard.

It was sharp, the pointed tip of that quill, sharp like a razor and I
carved a big lazy L into his perfect chest. Black blood ran from his
skin, but he healed as fast as I cut him and Gabriel didn't feel a
thing. I rolled my ass slowly, rocking my hips and reaching back to
feel his thick hot prick sliding wetly in and out of me.

I was going to cum, I always did, ever since I'd died I'd been
orgasmic and I wondered what the connection was sometimes. Maybe that
was just Jesus, having a little fun with me. He could be like that
sometimes; a real subtle wit and he liked his little jokes.

"Ohhh yeah...Gab...Fuck me good..." I breathed, pressing my other hand to
the black wetness on his skin.

Angel blood is black and it never dries. I licked it from my fingers,
sucking them one at a time like long thin cocks while he watched me.
His strong soft hands were holding my hips, pushing and pulling me
now, cause it was feeling good for him too. He didn't get laid too
often, it wasn't like he could pick up a girl off the street. There
was only me, that Bitch Lilith maybe, one or two others.

That was why he'd come around, I knew. Not because of the Pope, even
God wasn't that paranoid, although he should have been. No, me being
back in Jerusalem was like turning on a neon sign that said 'Fuck Me!'
and they all came around, sniffing my ass like dogs in heat. Raphael
wouldn't be far behind, and I'd be sucking his cock before lunch,
probably.

Angels were a lot like dogs. Except dogs were smarter; more dependable
too, in my honest opinion. You could trust a dog to be a dog, but
angels...They were whatever God needed them to be. At least the Arch-
Angels were. The others, like Uziel, they were free. And guys like
Livermore, they were just doing their jobs. But Gabriel and his
brothers...

"Roll over..." He was licking his lips. "...I want it the other way..."

I giggled at him and I was still high from my cum and happy I'd had it
so quick, because I knew Gab was going to want my ass. He was big on
that, the same way Raphael liked getting his dick sucked, Gab had to
fuck anus if he wanted to get off. It was his penance for following
orders, because no good deed goes unpunished, even in heaven.

"Yeah..." I swallowed thickly, pulling my well stretched cunt off his
penis slowly, our juices running out of me, down his shaft briefly.

I got on my hands and knees, blinking at my breakfast tray balanced on
the nightstand next to the bed. I reached for it, grabbing the last
two packs of unopened strawberry jelly and I tore one open with my
teeth, squeezing the plastic cup so I had a gob of it on my fingers.

"What are you doing?" Gab giggled like a Cherub.

"Little lube." I smiled at him over my shoulder as I smeared red jelly
over my tight little ass, working it into my sphincter and then I did
the same thing with the other one.

Gabriel just watched, stroking his dark sticky cock in his hand,
grinning like a dog. He acted all innocent at first, but once you got
him hard he was as sick as the next guy.

"Remind you of anyone?" I pushed my middle finger into my ass,
wriggling it around.

He frowned at that, but he shouldn't have. He'd been the one who'd
knocked up Mary, the Virgin Mary, fucking her tight little ass hard
and making a baby without leaving a shred of proof behind. Except for
her torn and bloody rectum, red and sticky, like it had been greased
up with strawberry jelly. That was why he couldn't cum anywhere but in
my ass...He'd raped her hard and God had pretended not to notice.

It had been a good trick, one of the Man's better ones, knocking a
girl up through her anus. I almost wished Gab would do it like that
for me.

"Come on, baby..." I crooked my dirty middle finger at him. "Give me a
little messiah."

"Blasphemous bitch..." Gab chuckled and he got close behind me, pressing
his cock to my strawberry covered asshole and giving it a hard little
jab. "You should be praying while you're...Ugh!!...On your knees like
that."

"Ohhh fuck...sloooow...Jesus!" I groaned because it hurt and I dropped my
head, feeling my body tense and I sucked tepid Jerusalem air into my
burning lungs.

"He won't help you." Gabriel slammed his cock in me hard, punishing me
with it.

This was the real Gabriel, the one people think of when they imagine
him. Beautiful and perfect, all gold and light, and full of vigor. The
defender of Heaven, the nemesis of Satan, leading God's army to
battle. He was strong and ruthless and purposed at last and I loved
him for that. Kicking ass and fucking ass, it was all the same to him,
and what he was built for...Everything else just confused the boy.

I was rubbing my clit while he stretched my anus painfully. I didn't
do this a lot, in fact I only did it with him, and it had been a long
time. Too long and my ass had forgotten just what it felt like to be
sodomized by a big angelic penis. But it was like riding a bike, you
know, without the seat, so I figured it out quickly enough.

I felt his hands on my breast, his thumbs over my nipples, playing
with me, using my tits to drive me back. He was a good fuck and I
severely loved it when he came around. I had fistfuls of bed sheet and
I was panting like a bitch in heat, pushing my ass back to meet his
thrusts so that our bodies made wet damp slapping sounds in the
morning light.

The pain was excruciating and I liked that too. It wasn't going to
kill me, I thought with an inward giggle and an outward sigh, it
wasn't even going to hurt very long. I healed as fast as he did and
every little tear he was making in my rectum was repaired an instant
later, ready to be torn again with Gabriel's next violent thrust.

And it was violent, that was the beauty of it. There was no tenderness
in angels; it's just an illusion, like Santa Claus, invented to sell
soap to housewives. Gabriel had done bad things, terrible things. He'd
started more wars than greed, lust, and gluttony combined, just
because he liked the fighting. He was the god of war, Mars himself in
my bed. Ares in my ass. Gabriel in my heart.

And if I had my way, I'd be giving him the biggest one yet...And soon,
very soon, I hoped.


=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

It's dark but for the bare fluorescent bulb in the bathroom, and an
odd, sort of pinkish glow coming from the neon outside. It spills like
a stain from the bottom of the cheap drapes and I'd lifted my feet
away from it. I sit there like that, naked with my knees to my
breasts, my heels digging into the worn and itchy fabric of the chair,
hugging myself with one hand raised to my mouth. I like to smoke while
I watched.

It's what I'm into. The watching.

The girl is dead. I'm not sure when it happened, or even how it had
happened precisely. There are so many ways a life can end. She had
been alive when I fell asleep, I know that much. She'd been crying, I
think, a sound well suited to lulling the human soul to rest. I'd
cradled her, stealing her warmth, burying my face in the nape of her
soft neck, feeling the small shivers and shudders. Oh yes, she was
very much alive and now...She wasn't.

Like waking up from a dream.

I'd barely moved her and nothing of that was intentional. I awoke and
stretched and kissed her left shoulder, even bit her perhaps in my
dusky arousal. She'd made no sound, no movement, no sigh or whimper or
yelp. It had been quiet and I'd taken a deep breath of her and now...Now
I was sitting in the chair, looking at her lying there. It was
exciting for me, much more so than anything we'd experienced the night
and day before. That was foreplay and now this was the reality of our
lovemaking. I smoke and watch and she stirs not at all.

I masturbate slowly, in my head while I drag that cigarette into my
lungs. I don't need to touch myself, that part of me is incidental,
unimportant. I come twice, or three times perhaps, and it's very good
for me. I bite my knee the last time, drawing blood like a virgin,
which is only my desperate sense of irony asserting itself, I assure
you. This is not my first time.

Dead girl clothes. Dead girl shoes. Dead girl makeup and jewelry. I
wear her like a trophy and there is a reason for this, beyond my
desire to remember her for so long as possible. I like her clothes. A
one piece dress, all red with black around the hem, very short and
open. Nothing to hide, everything's for sale. Women's fashions are
useless and redundant and every time I dress I hate my gender. The
only thing that makes it tolerable is where it comes from, where it's
been; what it means. I like her clothes. Taking something off the
rack, hmmm...Where's the dignity in that? I've stolen clothes from a
Laundromat just because the woman washing them was interesting.
Getting them stained and smelling of her though, that's much better.

It's a greasy motel in the Village, if even a motel at all. Rooms by
the hour, fresh linen, hot water! I pass the signs and the old clerk,
lost behind his newspaper. I hate this place, and love it. The city,
New York, like the center of the universe and so remote that no one
else cares. Only the people living here are proud of it, a fact that
always amazes me for some reason. It's the same everywhere.

Uziel. I need her right now. I have to tell her what I've done. That
was her friend upstairs, Uzi's lover, not mine, not until the end.
I've done everything for my angel, for my love, and I want to show
her. Prove to her how silly it is to choose a mortal for a lover. They
don't last, the never do. The flesh is weak and easily broken. Not
like us...Not like us.

"Hey!" A voice is calling me, lazy and laughing from the fire escape.
"Laz, where you going?"

I stop on the street, busy this time of night, with people buying and
selling, looking for what they lack.

"The club." I look up at her, watching the girl spider down the
rickety iron, creaking and rattling.

I can see up her skirt, flashes of her pale thighs and milky
underwear, but only briefly as a taxi rounds a corner, the headlights
askew and catching her just right, just for a second, and then it's
dark.

"You fixed?" She hangs by her arms, stretching her body with her toes
a foot off the concrete. "I need some."

"Heather." I say, because her name just occurred to me. "I'll fix
you."

"Fuck you're beautiful." She laughs and drops to the sidewalk and I
realize she's barefoot. "Love the ring."

I forgot about that. A gold ring through my bottom lip, just at the
corner of my mouth, and I tongue it. I can't remember when or where I
got it.

"Where's your shoes?" I put my arm around her, because I hate being
alone and she's small and soft and cute like you wouldn't believe.
Strawberry blonde and dimples and big blue eyes so dilated you'd never
know.

"I dunno." Heather laughed, leaning against me and she's drunk, but
she needs more than that. "Buy me some shoes, Laz."

We walk down the street like that, arms around each other, looking
like two girls hungry for trouble.

"Heather." A woman says, or a man in drag, it's hard to tell and I
don't care.

It's a fixer in a trench coat, loose and draped over its shoulders.
Inside I see leather and lace and all black steel. She's strapped with
a gauge and I smile at that.

"A dime?" Heather's looking up at me, her fingers digging into my hip.

"Live it up." I giggle, grabbing Heather by the hair and kissing her
hard, forcing my tongue into her dry mouth just to see what the fag's
gonna do.

"I know you." He tilts her head, biting its lip.

"A dime." I breathe, looking at the fixer and nodding while Heather
kisses my t-shirt between my tits, thanking me.

"You're that whack fuck that can't be killed, huh?"

"I got killed once." I shrug. "It's underrated. You got dope or what?"

"I got it." She pulls her hand out of her pocket, a little plastic all
tied up sitting on her palm and Heather snatches it quick.

I pull out dead woman's money, slapping the bills in the guy's hand.
Everybody knows me and I don't know anyone, but that's how it is
sometimes. Heather's digging for her rig, needing it so bad she's
shaking with excitement and I reach under her skirt, finding the
leather pouch strapped round her soft thigh.

We sit in the alley, across from a sleeping bum, half dead and
stinking, cooking up Heather's fix and it's viper milk when I push
that stuff in her arm, thin and soft and bruised like pale fruit. When
I let her go Heather is smiling and far away, leaning back to squeeze
her tits, spreading her legs and giggling silently. Not a fucking
sound, just her tongue moving between her open lips and I wonder what
that's like.

I dig a smoke out of my new purse, dead girl's purse, and I light it
slow, burning it hot and long. I look through that purse some more,
killing time while Heather fucks herself beside me. I find some
lipstick and I uncap it, holding my smoke in my smile, grabbing
Heather's chin in my hand.

"Look at me, slut." I kiss her briefly and then I paint her mouth red,
taking my time while she stares six inches past my eyes, unfocused and
rubbing her cunt.

I fix her eyes too, just cause I never play dress up anymore, not like
this. I do her pretty, neat and nice, so she looks like a whore and I
lean back, nodding my head and licking my ring.

"Better." I decide and then I remember Uzi, as if I'd ever forgotten.
"Come on, we gotta go."

I pull Heather to her feet and I hear someone giggling, a couple
someones, real whores standing there at the mouth of the alley.

"You need a real date, sugar?" One of them asks me and she looks about
the same size as Heather. She's got dark skin, Hispanic maybe, or half
black. It doesn't matter, she's got nice feet. Nice shoes.

"Yeah." I let Heather go, so she can fall back on her ass with a
laugh. She's coming around finally.

There's two of them, the other one big and black and poured into some
leotard so her fat ass hangs out the back. I ignore her and punch the
other one in the face hard.

"Stay down." I kick her in the stomach as she tries to get up.

"Cunt!" The big one says, but she's leaving. They aren't really
friends at all maybe.

I take off the whore's shoes, ruby red slippers cause there's no place
like home. All the pros have a pair of those, ruby red to cover their
toes...As everyone knows. I'm laughing at that, just because it felt
good to hit a woman in the mouth and I think maybe I should remember
that just so I have something to write on a bathroom wall sometime.

"I've never been known for my clever prose..." I'm laughing and the
whore is groaning and the bum is snoring and Heather is giggling.

"What?" She looks up at me and I drop the shoes between her spread
thighs.

"Put those on." I say.

"Take me dancing." She smiles. "I want to sleep."

"Later." I lick my lips. "I want a drink."

"Goody." Heather giggles more, fumbling her feet into her new shoes.

We hit Smithee's first, just because it's close and I'm drinking
vodka. Lots of vodka, watching the dykes hit on Heather and she takes
it like a lady. Bent over the pinball machine, banging it with her
fists as it rings and clangs and buzzes beneath her. And all the while
she's being fucked with some bull's fingers up her twat and it's cute.
She's cute.

"Seen Uziel?" I ask the bartender, a thin girl named Sarah Nobody.
"She been here?"

I suck down another shot, tapping the bar impatiently and it burns
nice.

"Don't know her." The blonde shrugs, grabbing a bottle and pouring.

"She's an angel." I smile, feeling my head swimming now. I need that
so bad.

"Uh-huh." Sarah nods.

"No belly button." I scratch myself, rubbing my ring. "That's how you
can tell."

"Sure." She nods seriously, leaning on spread hands. ""What's your
name?"

"You see an angel, you ask to see her belly button...What?" I blink at
her. "Lazarus."

"Really?" She laughs at that. "Like in the bible?"

"No." I shake my head, picking up my seventh shot in thirty minutes.
"From the bible." I grin and wiggle my eyebrows and down the Stoli
hard.

"I get off in about an hour." She picks up my glass, taking it from my
fingers so she has an excuse to touch me. "I have a room upstairs."

I look over at Heather and she's on her knees, licking pussy now. A
lesbian circle jerk, four of them standing around her with their pants
undone. It's fucking ludicrous.

"It'll hurt." I tell her. "Where's the bottle?"

"I don't mind." She's so old too, in her eyes. An old woman trapped in
her little girl body.

"Poor Sarah." I sigh and smile at the bottle in her hand. "Pour
Sarah."

A baker's dozen and I'm ready. I pull out some plastic, a dead girl's
credit card, and toss it on the bar.

"This says Victoria Taylor on it." Sarah yells at me.

"Keep it." I wave over my shoulder at her, looking at the dykes
playing with my Heather like she was a dog.

"Come on." I squeeze between two of them, grabbing Heather by the
wrist. She's wet from her eyebrows down to her tits, all stinking of
girl juice and booze. They'd been fixing her with gin and cunt.

"Hey, what the fuck?" One of the girls says, and the others are
looking at me. Some smiles, some frowns. A soft laugh maybe, it's all
happening at once because I'm taking their toy away.

"You had her." I tell them. "Now piss off."

"Maybe we'll have you too..." But the others aren't into it and they
hold her back. Good thing too because I'm drunk now, feeling good
finally and I don't want to kill anybody. Not tonight. Not again.

"We need sugar." I grin, dragging Heather behind me and she's drunk
too. "And cigarettes." I said a minute later, crumpling the empty pack
and tossing it in the gutter.

"Take me dancing, Laz...Please?" Heather is clinging to me, smelling
like Beefeaters and pussy and it's making me hungry for her.

"Shut-up." I wipe my face on her hair, feeling hot despite the cool
night around us.

We go into a Seven-Eleven, green and orange and so bright I want to
scream.

"Get something." I push Heather away from me and I stand at the
counter, looking around, blinking under the harsh fluorescent glow.

"Shit." The girl behind the counter looks at me. "You're fucked up."

"Some camels." I nod vaguely towards the cartoon sign behind her.

"You don't remember me, huh?" She looks like anybody else, pissed a
little, amused maybe. Nice tits and a big nose, but cute anyway.

"Did we fuck?" I ask her.

"Yeah." She nods. "Last week. You said you'd call."

"I lied." I shrug, not really understanding what the problem was.

"She's a liar." Heather giggles. "She was dead before too." She dumps
six packages of Hostess Sno-Balls on the counter. "I love these."

"Get some more." I say.

"This is all they got." Heather looks at the girl. "You got more Sno-
Balls?"

"Nope." She crosses her arms.

"Get those camels." I repeated. "And some...fuck, what do you got?" I
looked around. "That's it."

The girl laughs at me, tossing my cigarettes on the counter and
ringing it all up. "I hope you get run over." She says, taking my
money. "And die."

"Thanks. Me too." I say sincerely and Heather is already opening a
package, stuffing her mouth with white coconut and cake and sugary
cream filling.

"Psycho." The woman shoves the other five into a plastic bag and I'm
opening my cigarettes.

"I guess I shoulda called her." I look at Heather and she laughs, her
mouth open wide and filled with soggy chewed up Sno-Ball.

I kiss her then, in front of the big nosed bitch, stabbing my tongue
in that messy mouth and digging some for myself. It's good, moist with
Heather's saliva, and we sit outside on the curb eating all twelve of
them like that. Sharing it between our open mouths while people walk
past staring.

"Dancing?" Heather is asking me. "Please Laz? I'll dance you good,
I'll fuck on the floor, baby..."

Yeah yeah...Uzi too." I have my quest, to find Uziel and we're going to
the one place an angel might actually be.

The Hypogeum.

There's a line, full of Goth's and punks and freaks. All of them
beautiful, all of them desperate. Some of them want to die. Some just
want to know the truth. Some of them...Who knows. They don't. We're
underdressed, Heather and me, at least some of those people think so
and I can hear their voices complaining.

"I'm on the list." I say to the doorman holding a clipboard. He's big
and bald and brown with a gold ring through his nose. It reminds me of
the one in my lip and I tongue it, wondering where it had come from. I
couldn't remember.

"Yeah, no shit, Laz." He laughs at me.

"Aren't you gonna look?" I frown at him, feeling almost insulted
because he won't.

"No." He nods and the other guy pushes the door open, leaning a little
to hold it. "Watch your step, Laz."

"Fucking Jinn." I mutter and Heather laughs as we tumble slowly down
the step stairs on the heels of our shoes.

There's a lot more like the genie downstairs, or not like him at all
really. Angels and demons and hypocrites like me. Drinking and
talking, making the deals that make the world work. This was the only
safe place in New York, so long as you weren't human.

It was the Other World there, the hidden place. I'd keep Heather close
because I liked her and some of the things down there would drink her
dry, or eat her whole, or just fuck her to death because they could.
It was a lot like Yankee Stadium during the Subway Series and that
thought made me smile.

"Over there..." I see someone I know, or I think I know, and she seems
to know me. Two of them, sitting on a big curved couch, like a t�te-�-
t�te made for couples.

She's a vampire, one look tells me that much, pale with thick black
hair and evil eyes. She's sitting with her slave, a woman tall and
blonde and entirely too beautiful for her own good. I want to eat her
myself and I stare at the blonde, wondering where a thing like that
would come from. She reminds me of Uziel, but this girl is altogether
too human.

A waitress is there and I smile at the vampire, pulling Heather down
to sit with me across from them.

"What are you drinking?" I ask and I can't leave that blonde alone.
"Hungarian?" I lick my ring. "Never mind...Fuck it. Um..." I glance at the
waitress. "White Russians, virgin Cossacks, about six of them...No, yeah...
Six for me."

"What about me?" Heather is snuggling against me, petting my breast.

"And a pitcher of cream for my pussy." I giggle.

"Nice outfit." The vampire nods.

"Thanks. I got it off a dead girl." I drop my purse on the sofa. "That
too."

"Whatever works, Laz." She smiles at me, playing with her minion.

I don't have any minions, just girls like Heather, so I feel a twinge
of jealousy and I make Heather pay for it.

"This is Heather." I grab the girl's breast in my hand, squeezing it
hard and pulling so Heather has to bend over slightly, groaning. "You
want a taste?"

"I know you." Heather giggled, sitting back up. She was staring at the
vampire. "Do you want to dance with me?"

The woman grins at that, flashing her fangs and shaking her head.
"Dance with Eve."

The blonde gives her Mistress a look, but the vampire doesn't seem to
notice. She just pushes the blonde away, telling her to dance with
Heather.

"Yeah, go." I grin, letting go of Heather's tit. "Dance your ass off."

We watch our girls for a second, Heather happy and Eve somewhat less
so.

"What's your name?" I ask, leaning forward a bit cause the music is
loud and some people are quiet about names anyway.

"Keri." She shrugs, but she doesn't seem to take offence and I'm glad.
My head is floating on a sea of vodka and I didn't need a pissed off
vampire.

"Right." I smile like the name means something, and maybe it would if
I was sober. "Sorry about that...You seen Uzi? I'm looking for her."

"No." Keri shakes her head apologetically.

"I fucked up." I sigh, sucking at my gold ring, wondering if Uzi
didn't give it to me. But I'd remember that. "She left me."

"Ahhh..." I smile when I see the waitress coming, saving the vampire
from having to give me sympathy. They suck at that sort of thing.

I pick up a glass from the table between us, offering it briefly, but
Keri was a vampire, the stuff was poison probably.

"I forgot, you can't have any." I giggle and she shrugs. "White
Russians, quite revolting actually."

I drink it fast, dropping the glass and reaching for another. We watch
Heather and Eve for a little bit, or Eve anyway, she's taller, enough
so we can see her perfect head moving in the crowd. Heather is smaller
and I can only catch a glimpse of her now and again.

"So, what are you doing here?" Keri asks me.

"Looking for Uziel." I have another drink. "Didn't I say that?"

"Yeah, Laz, you did." Keri nods and I know she's wondering, because
I'm trouble and everyone knows it. The wildcard in the deck.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, just to be polite, really.

"Killing time." The vampire smiles and that's pretty funny coming from
her. They aren't known for their rapier wit.

"Heh." I smile. "Kill some of mine too, while you're at it, eh?"

"You haven't seen Nicolai, by any chance, have you?" She asks me
slowly, trying to be cool about it, but the eyes, the fingers moving,
they give her away.

"Oh! Shit...Keri!" I nod suddenly, my buzzing brain remembering her
finally. "Yeah, I saw him in fuck...Madrid? Or someplace...Anyway he said
he was going to Moscow."

Nicolai is Keri's lover, her mate, as they like to call themselves.
But he's not a good one, he's a wanderer, a nomad, and that's rare in
a vampire. Mostly they're homebodies. They find a place and stay
there, but not Nicolai. He's pretty fun to hang with, actually, and
I'm always moving so we bump into each other a lot.

"And?" The vampire looks at me like she expects more.

"And what?" I laugh at her, downing another drink. "He said he was
going home, that's all. There's no secret message, did you expect him
to say he misses you? He loves you?"

She's flushing, that vampire, uncertain of herself suddenly and I know
she's young. Too young to be mated with an old perverted bastard like
Nicolai. Probably too innocent too, but maybe not. She looks cruel in
the eyes.

"You're too young for him." I say, being sincere and hoping she'll
understand that, but she doesn't.

"No, I'm not." She smiles, but her eyes are red.

"Youth isn't a question of years, you're either young or old right
from the start." I tell her, thinking that sounded pretty deep even
for a drunk like me. "And you're too young."

That's the problem with being 2000 years old, you pick up a lot of
trivia along the way.

Heather is back, giggling and red faced from dancing and I grab her,
needing her mouth. "Come here, drink some milk now, kitten."

The girl smiles petulantly, her eyes glazed.

"Down there, that's it..." I give Keri a grin as I push Heather between
my thighs. "Kiss me there, do what you do, kitty."

Heather knows what I want and she doesn't mind at all, sinking to her
knees, pushing my skirt up so she can pull my panty aside and suck my
pussy. Across from us the vampire takes her own pleasure from Eve,
biting the woman between her heaving breasts.

"Thirsty?" I smile down at Heather, who's working my clit nicely now.

I pick up the pitcher of cream, pouring it slowly onto my sex,
watching Heather lap it from my skin and it feels good. So good like
that, the cold fresh milk and the girl's hot tongue, digging it from
my slit.

"If only Jesus could see me now." I giggle, licking my lips and
feeling my cunt quiver. Heather really is very good at what she does
and it's worth the money I spent on her dope.

"You have an admirer." I jerk my head and Keri, who's now drinking
from a deep bite on Heather's perfect waist glances up to see a boy, a
human.

"What?" Heather glances up at me, licking her lips and she's
beautiful, covered with cream from her nose to her tits.

"Not you." I giggle, pushing her head back down. "Keep sucking my
twat, twat."

Keri talks to the boy, he's got a night to live, 12 hours at the most,
maybe a full day, but I doubt it. The vampire looks hungry to me. A
few minutes of negotiation and they're ready to go home.

"Laz, we're going to go...If you see Nicolai..." Keri licks her ruby lips.

"Yeah, yeah..." I laugh at her, the silly girl. She acts tough, all up
on herself, but she's just a kid. "Just tell Uzi I need her. Please?
Tell her I'm sorry."

And it's my turn to be a fool, staring into the vampire's eyes until
she turns away, frightened of time like everyone else I know. Except
Uziel.

And she's nowhere to be seen.

"Come on." I say, lifting Heather from her knees, kissing her for a
moment so I can taste cream and cunt on her pouting lips. "Let's get
out of here. She ain't here."

"Can you fix me, Laz?" She asks softly, and she's slowed down, needing
it.

"You're not broke." I laugh. But maybe she is, just like the rest of
us and Heather leans on me, small and light and wet as we make our way
outside.

"Lazarus!" A voice calls me and I blink, narrowing my eyes as eight
inches of ancient bronze stab between my breasts.

"Holy fuck!" Heather gasps and stares at me.

We're just leaving the club, stepping out into the predawn grey, and
this has to spoil it. Fucking Jesuits. It hurts too, a lot. My heart
is cloven, and that old knife is sticking out of me like a dick
between my tits. That's what it looks like. I grab it, pulling it free
with a heavy grunt.

The priest is speaking, praying in Latin, reciting an old incantation,
but it isn't gonna do him any good. Blood is pouring out of me and my
heart is stopped momentarily, but I don't even notice. I've suffered a
lot worse than a knife to the heart and these holy fucks never learn.

"Hey." I say softly and the Jesuit looks up from his book, eyes wide
and he's scared. "Tell the Cardinal he's on my list."

"Wha...What?" He's not too smart.

I always thought the Jesuits were overrated anyway though. I shove
that knife into his belly deep, dragging it upward to disembowel him,
his intestines falling out as I hold him there, the knife angled
upward, just under the sternum.

Heather is watching me, a few other people, drunks and bums, maybe a
whore, it doesn't matter. This priest is dead already, but he's still
trying to understand why. I've seen that knife before; it's an
Assyrian blade, supposedly one of the Daggers of Aunnas, a temple
dedicated to Baal, and capable of killing an immortal. So long as the
right words are spoken.

But there are no right words, as I might have told him. I'd been
stabbed dozens of times, with everything from the spear of Longinus,
to the bayonet of a Nazi bastard at Dachau. All it did was hurt. The
Jesuits figured I was the key to the Second Coming, and maybe I was,
it would fit God's sense of irony. Kill me, complete the final
miracle, and Jesus comes back, sure, why not? But after 2000 years of
trying it didn't seem very likely anymore.

My heart is beating again by the time I let the priest go, dropping
him on the sidewalk like a sack of old beef. He'd been one of Cardinal
Beschi's young boys, fresh from the seminary, catholic suicide bombers
is what I called them. They always do it like that, striking out of
the shadows like cowards and I always leave them dead. It's a point of
honor.

I'm getting real sick of that old bastard and soon I'm going to pay
him a visit. I'd taken care of the Pope, all that was left was Beschi
and his little gang of fanatic priests, hell bent on bringing about
the end of the world. I'm all for it personally, life is getting
pretty boring, but this two bit assassination shit is for the birds.

"Come on." I put my arm around Heather, leading her away before the
cops got interested.

"You killed him." Heather was looking over her shoulder.

"He was already dead." I shrugged.

"You're bleeding." She put her hand to my body, feeling the blood
soaked into my t-shirt, pushing her fingers through the ragged cut in
the black cotton. I was all healed underneath, all that remained was
the blood and the memory.

"Not anymore." I smiled. "Let's get you fixed."

"I love you, Laz." Heather sighed, but only because she really needed
some heroine right then.

Nobody really loved me, except Uziel and she was pissed.

"Hey." I slide my hand down to Heather's ass, squeezing her though her
damp skirt.

"Hmmm?" She looks up at me and smiles.

"How come angels don't have belly buttons?" I ask her and she stops
then, holding me tightly so I have to stop too.

"How'd you know?" She's changing, beautiful giggling Heather becoming
the immaculate and perfect Uziel before my very eyes.

"I didn't." I grin at her. "I was just telling a joke."

"Oh." Uzi looks like an angel, a fallen one with her long white air
and jet black wings. All of 15 with small upturned breasts, rosy
nipples and a sexy mouth between her thighs, pink and wet and hungry.
And no belly button, just that soft smooth tummy and she's older than
starlight.

"You were good." I smiled, holding her close as we walk together,
taking little steps and avoiding cracks in the sidewalk.

"Really?" Uzi giggles, folding her wings around us.

"You fooled me." I chuckled.

"You're getting old." She teases me and that's very funny, especially
coming from an angel. They aren't noted for their humor.

"That's the truth." I nod.

"Laz?" She asks softly and I look down at her. "Take me to bed."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Sometimes I really wished I had a cock, like I did in the bible. I was
mostly guy anyway, at least on the inside, where it counted. My body
was female, and I loved to fuck with the arch-angels. And Livermore,
of course, he knew how to make me feel like a woman all over again.
But when I was with Uziel, I wished I was a man just so I could know
what it was like fucking her.

Instead I had to settle for my mouth at the nape of her delicate neck,
my hands on her back, and underneath her, feeling her small hard
breasts in my hands. I loved to fuck her doggy style, taking her
angelic cunt with a dildo I'd picked up just for her.

It was long and black and thick and I punished her with it, because
she was so perfect, and so fallen, and so mine. Uzi's hymen grew back
every night, like magic, or everyday if you will, it didn't matter.
And so far as I knew she was the only angel who had a hymen, which was
something I'd always imagined unique to humans.

But God likes his jokes and giving an angel a sweet little cherry to
pop, over and over again, that was beyond Him by any means. So I'd
broken her once more, with her wings spread and her back arched,
thrusting her perfect ass back to greet my penis of the moment. Uzi
wanted it as much as me, even more probably. The pain was her reward.

I just wished I could feel it with a real penis, just once, stretching
her tiny sex and hitting that silken barrier of flesh. Feeling it
yield slowly, stretching slightly and the tearing, making Uziel gasp
the way she did. Pushing my cock inside slowly and knowing she wasn't
going to take it like that. Angels have no patience and she'd push
herself against me, every fucking time, rolling her cute little ass,
rocking her hips, screwing herself onto me.

It was like heaven, exactly like heaven, just for that one brief
moment and then it was just sex. But that was still pretty good, and I
was fucking her hard, feeling the base of that dildo against my clit,
making me feel good, like it might have been me in there. And kissing
her skin, smelling her and tasting her. She was sweet, like opium
dripping from the poppy, a cloying scent that made my eyes dilate and
my nostrils flare.

Uziel moaned, pushing herself back over and over hard. Blood ran down
her pale thighs, black and thick and mixed with her juices. Every
night she bled for me, my beautiful virgin, and she was the only thing
I'd ever loved.

I'd fuck her for awhile, until she'd cum and had enough and then we'd
make love. The way women do, with our mouths and fingers and legs and
arms. All of us, every part of our bodies involved. There was no place
upon her skin or mine that wasn't tender and eager to be touched.
Wherever our mouths went we shuddered with pleasure.

It was always good for us, Uziel and me.

It was daylight outside, in Heather's apartment and where she was, the
real Heather...Because there was one...I had no idea. Uziel might have
killed her, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility, but more than
likely the girl was flopped in an alley someplace, or at one of the
missions sleeping off a good fix. Uziel was practical, even gentle
with humans, and she'd have seen the girl off. Or so I hoped.

But Uzi might have killed her too, just to spite me. She had been a
little pissed.

"Laz and Uzi, sittin in a tree..." I heard his voice and I opened one
eye. Uziel was sleeping beside me, curled up with her mouth on my left
nipple, nursing on me while she dreamt.

"Livermore." I sighed.

"I see you found her." Livermore was sitting in a chair near the drawn
blinds.

"What is it?" I asked him softly.

"Just thought I'd stop by." He looked down, brush some imagined bit of
dust from his black cassock. "See how the other half lives."

"Hmmph..." I smiled. "Everyone's a comedian."

I shifted a little, pulling Uzi even closer as she slept, so that she
murmured softly, the way she does...She loves to talk in her sleep...And
she put her left leg over mine, sliding her wet warm sex against my
hip.

"Have you heard about Beschi?" Livermore asked me quietly, not wanting
to wake up the angel.

"I heard from him." I sighed. "This morning. They tried to use the
Dagger of Aunnas."

"Heh." The angel of death chuckled. "They're getting desperate."

"What about Beschi?"

"His pet, the nun...You know her?" Livermore asked, leaning forward a
little and eyeing Uzi's exposed pussy from behind.

"I've heard of her." I nodded.

"She's turned." Livermore smiled, just a little one.

"Vampire?" I blinked at that.

"She'll be looking for you." Livermore nodded. "She can kill you..." He
shrugged. "...Maybe."

"Maybe." I nodded and that was the first maybe in two thousand years
and I wasn't sure how I felt about it suddenly.

"Anyway, I thought you should know." He shrugged. "We could all be out
of a job soon."

"Yeah." I giggled softly.

Livermore was getting up slowly, waiting to see if I'd invite him into
our bed. He'd do both of us, and very well too, but I was feeling
selfish, and Uziel was sleeping. I'd repay Livermore later and he
understood; we both loved Uzi.

"Watch yourself, huh?" Livermore slipped away, like a shadow falling
into sunlight, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

A vampiric nun, that was very clever, and I wondered how Beschi had
managed to arrange that. But he wasn't without his own powers and
influence. The old Cardinal was human, but he may as well have been
one of us, one of the rara avis. He was a god enemy, a good opponent,
and I'd miss him when this was done.

"Sister Ellen..." I drew a deep breath. A vampire...She really might be
able to do it, wouldn't that be something. But I'd fight her for it,
because I was tired of it, yeah, but it was just my nature. I wanted
to go down, but only after a really good fight. The nun would have to
prove her worth if she was going to kill Lazarus.


=-=-=-=-=--==-=--=
End
rache696@yahoo.com
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