Kharma stood in the line outside the soup kitchen wearing the body of a homeless woman. She kept her head down but never took her eyes off the smiling woman greeting and hugging every single person who shuffled through the line. Even if she hadn't been wearing the simple black habit over her hair, Jane would have been easily identifiable as a Nun. Light and love poured out of her, bringing the sweetest aroma Kharma had smelled in a very long time.

"Well, hello Abbey," Jane said and Kharma narrowed her eyes.

"Has anyone ever told you how annoying that little trick is?" Kharma straightened up and looked Jane in the eyes, charade discarded.

"Well, since you're the only angel that's ever visited me, I'd have to say no."

"Well, it is. Just to lay your mind to rest..." the old crone said with the loud and clear voice of a much younger woman. "Can we go talk in your office?"

Jane looked past Kharma at the thirty or so folks still in line. "After I greet these guests. Go make yourself comfortable and I'll be in shortly."

Just as Kharma reached the door to the chapel, Jane's voice stopped her. "Oh, and Abbey? Could you refrain from... correcting... the displays."

Kharma looked over the hunched shoulder of her borrowed body and winked before walking through the double doors.

Twenty-eight minutes later Jane walked into the sanctuary to find Kharma standing in front of the life-sized crucifix, studying the figure. She'd dropped the human disguise and Jane found herself unconsciously faltering at the site of the stunning wings. The feathers were so deeply black and yet oddly iridescent. Jane was uncomfortably sure that if she touched them, her hand would disappear into an abyss.

"Thank you for not defacing the displays this time."

Kharma turned and for just a split second Jane saw the unmasked version of the angel's face and the light and beauty brought tears to her eyes.

"You're welcome. I appreciate that you hung the painting I brought. At least one display in here is an accurate representation."

Kharma and Jane both looked at the image of a distinctly Middle Eastern representation of the Christ and his disciples, including one who had never appeared in any Sunday School stories.

"Thank you for that. Coming from you, I suppose it's somewhat like having a Polaroid from that night."

Kharma turned and found herself staring at the holy woman. She was late thirties, but looked a decade younger because of the freckles across her cheeks and lack of make-up. While her hair was covered by the habit, a few strawberry blonde curls had escaped around her ears. Her looks were mostly unremarkable, but her soul? Ah, now that... that was a masterpiece.

"Jane..." Kharma paused until the other woman raised her eyebrows. "How long did it take for you to be able to see the real me?"

"It was during your third visit when we were discussing the Syrian invasion. At first it was your eyes... they kept changing from blue to brown to black. And then your face kept going from male to female, old to young."

"But, how did you make that happen? What were you thinking while it was happening?"

Jane scoffed and shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't do anything to make it happen, Abbey. That was all you."

"Come again?"

"I believe that as you got comfortable with me you let your disguise slip. It's that simple, really."

Kharma was caught off guard as she let Jane's words sink in. Could that be the truth... could she have somehow let her guard down because she got comfortable with the nun? "Wait... if this was just me letting you in, why didn't you freak out when you saw the real me? I mean... you were cool as a cucumber. How in all that's holy is that possible?"

Jane sank down on one of the pews and stared up at the crucifix for a moment. "I'll admit that I was taken aback when I first noticed the changes but... I mean, how could I worship a supernatural God who employs angels and demons and not believe when I meet one face to face?"

"How did you know I wasn't here to kill you?"

"I didn't," Jane answered with a small smile. "I didn't even know if you were an Angel or a Demon."

"And yet, you weren't alarmed."

"What do I have to be scared of? No one escapes death. I know that what comes after is worth every ounce of fear and pain that may come with it."

Kharma sat next to Jane and took her hand in hers. She closed her eyes and searched the deepest recesses of the nun's soul. Just like the last dozen times, there was no darkness. Jane had no malice or bad deeds in her past or present. She was pure, white light - a beacon that could be seen by supernatural beings from every realm. The light had drawn Kharma like a moth to a flame.

She let go and Jane rubbed her slightly tingling forearm. What her human eyes couldn't see was that an iridescent black raven feather glowed where the angel's hand had been. This mark would keep all the lower level principalities that were drawn to Jane's light from interfering with her.

"Such a simple and complex answer all at the same time, Sister."

"What's behind your visit today, Abbadon?"

"Jane, please, you know I prefer Kharma."

The nun scoffed at the name. "Abbey suits you better, it's a prettier name. Besides, are you or are you not Abbadon, the Angel of Death?"

"I am, yes. I'm also known as Lilith, Ifri, Morrigan, Kharma, and Reaper. They all mean the same thing — I make sure humans get what they deserve here on earth. I just think Kharma suits me."

The two women gazed at one another and Jane grinned. "Fine, then. Kharma it is."

"I came to chat about forgiveness. Specifically what would your limit for forgiveness be."

"My limit?" Jane actually looked confused, like the thought had never crossed her mind. "I don't think I have one."

"Come on, Jane, even the Creator has a limit. There is an unforgivable sin, after all."

"But that's the sin of purposely keeping other humans from hearing the Gospel. That is a sin against God, not against me. I wouldn't be in a position to forgive that anyway."

Kharma had to shake her head in disbelief. "You are remarkable."

"No, I'm really not. Christ's example was to not only forgive, but also to fellowship and have a loving relationship with those who sinned against him. I'm not quite there yet."

"What if I told you that only applied to humans?"

Jane frowned and Kharma could see the confusion take root. She continued, "Our Father has one creature he has refused to give his forgiveness to."

Understanding crossed the nun's face. "Lucifer."

"My brother."

"Does he want God's forgiveness?"

Kharma stood and walked to the altar and ran her fingers across the inscribed words of the communion. "It's the greatest desire of his existence," she whispered and then turned abruptly. "And there was a time that he would admit it. But now? Now it's buried so deep in his hardened heart that he doesn't even realize it's there."

"Is this why you're asking about my limit of forgiveness? To see if I agree with God's stance?" Jane had approached the altar and stood next to Kharma. "I'm not going to judge my Creator on his decision. You must know that."

"Of course I do, and I'm not asking you to do that. Yahweh has his reasons and it's not for us to question."

The nun turned and the candle light reflected in her light blue eyes. "Then what exactly is it that you're asking from me?"

"I need you to counsel him... my brother. He needs to regain that desire for reconciliation."

Jane looked stunned. "Y-you want me to... to counsel Satan?"

"Oh, Jane, don't ever call him that. He hates that name. You can call him Lucifer, Luci, or even Samiael, but never Satan." Kharma shivers at the thought before continuing, "Yes, that's what I'm asking you to do."

"Why? And why me?"

"My brother is hell-bent," she couldn't help but grin at the pun, "on bringing about Armageddon, and it's because he's lost all hope in both our Father and humans." Kharma turned and cupped her hand around the side of the nun's face and bathed in the pure light that filled her from the contact.

"But I believe that you, my dear Saint Jane, are the only hope to remind Luci of the desire to connect that once existed in him."