Mannie went into a little more detail as we traveled the long path into Hell. She told me about her old friends, about the cycles, and her past.

There was one detail she wouldn't touch though. I hadn't noticed it. Ria, who had been politely quiet since she realized this was a conversation that rarely featured her, only pointed this avoided topic out as our elevator ride came to an end.

"You mentioned you were friends with Archangel Michael," She said. Mannie was still doing her best to avoid eye contact with either of us. "You gave him his powers."

"Yeah."

"How did that happen? You glossed right over something that seems like a pretty big deal."

"Michael-" Mannie spoke quickly, like she had everything she was going to say preplanned. Then she frowned. "Michael and I were close. Not romantically. Not-" She grimaced, staring down and baring her teeth. It seemed like such an ill expression for her to wear. "I'm not going to talk about this now."

"Fair enough." Ria said, but she turned to me and made a face, mouthing something, likely implying how crazy Mannie was. Which I agreed with. She was crazy. But I felt bad about admitting this, about being quite honest about the person I had just learned about.

It was not normal to stalk someone, to pick up and then abandon children, to have your emotions swing between violent and self-loathing.

But then again, it wasn't normal to be that old, or to have lived that life.

We entered the city, and for some reason I thought it'd look different. That it'd still be starkly orange and under lockdown. Like time had paused.

Instead, the only tell of the prior trouble seemed to be increased security by the atrium to the undercity. As we walked past, I took in the armed guards- if not for the different, light blue uniform, I wouldn't have taken them for anything of note.

"Where are we heading?" I asked.

"What are we doing might be a better question." Ria added.

"We're returning to Hell." Mannie stated.

"Is there... anything else? Any particular reason you came to fetch me?" I asked.

"No."

"Nothing?"

Mannie turned to face me, walking backwards. "No. I just thought it was about time." She sounded sincere.

"Well." I wasn't sure what to say. I could turn back, but what was the point? I was in Hell. I'd find something to do. Or it would find me.

Or...

"Do you know where I can find Michael?"

Mannie glared at me from the corner of her eye. "Yeah. I'm not going with you though."

"I never said you had to."

The streets were a lot quieter than I was used to them being. The couple people I passed looked worried and hurried, and I noted most of them were eyeing Mannie with a slight twinge of fear. I had nearly forgotten Hell had witnessed her bloody death in the same way I had. They knew who she was- at least to some degree. They knew that she fit with Michael and Alexander, among the eternal elite.

We came to my apartment, and there was this looming feeling of anticipation over me the entire trek up. It was hard to say what I was expecting, but I kept waiting. We walked to the door. Mannie had the key, and we walked in.

And everything was the same, still.

"Alexandria. You're staying here." Mannie said, standing by the open door. I had gone in to marvel at my few possessions, I guess somehow surprised two months hadn't changed anything other than the amount of dirt atop the TV.

"I know." Ria said, falling on my bed and then sitting up a second later to sneeze. "It just occurred to me- is Alexandria my actual name, or did you just name me after your good pal Alexander Scott?"

"Well, to be fair he named you, not me. But your legal name is, er... Beta, and for a while you were actually named Hih."

"Ugh."

"Now, you're sister-"

"I'll tell you where she went on the way." I said quickly, walking out the door. I lightly brushed her shoulder as I passed her in the hall, and she bat my hand away.

"What's this about Adeline?"

"I fucked up. Cycle change got to her."

Mannie stared at me in confusion. "No. She's fine."

"No, we- oh, you must know something I don't, huh?"

"Yeah. She's been in Hell. Wasn't effected by the cycle change. She and Ria are likely demons or halfbreeds."

"Shit. Wait here one second." I said. Luckily we hadn't left the hall. I ran back to my apartment and frantically knocked on the door.

Ria opened the door with the same amount of urgency. She didn't ask me what was wrong, but her eyes carried concern.

"Adeline's been in Hell this entire time." I said, and it was a relief in the sort of way that it had never really felt real. It was like a fantasy, like a half memory, like my own death: real yet ignored.

And now it was nonexistent. It felt like we should have been shouting excitedly or jumping for joy. Instead, we grinned at each other for a few moments. And that was all.

"So she'll be back." Ria said, but it was less thought out than most of her speeches, like half a thought and half an exclamation.

I nodded slightly, walking away. Not answering, but going.

Mannie explained to me what had happened to Michael post-death: Little. There had been much debate as to whether he should return to the angelic community, seeing as he really was the only one who could calm things down, but eventually it was decided he should go into hiding, as to not bring any proof towards Alexander's various claims.

When I pointed out that Mannie was walking around fine, proof of Alexander's claims, she merely grunted. Something about Michael mattering more. Being an angel and all.

Michael had been left in his house for the last two months to fester, visited only by a few and quite in secret. There had been the option of changing his appearance, but it was determined his personality was too volatile to be trusted to wander outside.

So home stuck he was. Mannie led me right up to his door, an apartment in one of the two buildings that boarded the primary offices of the government. On her request, I waited until Mannie had left the hall before knocking.

It took five tries before Michael came to the door. "Blake!" He said with a certain degree of excitement. Still, I had a feeling I had roused him from sleep; his normally maintained swish of hair was not evident, replaced instead by a bad bout of bedhead.

His home, opulent on the outside with a deep red carpet leading to its door, was a nest. I hadn't seen homes like this outside of reality TV- everything was on top of everything. Clothes were piled on top of his refrigerator- though one sweatshirt, neatly held on a clothes hanger, hung on a nail that had been crudely hammered into the wall.

The apartment wasn't large, I think, but it was hard to tell in the half dim he kept it in. A pile of children's books sat against the wall. Papers- mostly drawings, littered every flat surface. In one corner, between two armchairs, was a massive collection of canning jars. Each one had something red in it. I didn't want to make guesses now, but I would think it safe to assume the contents weren't jam.

"Blake." Michael repeated. "I'm so glad you've come."

I sighed. Exhaled. "What'd you need?"

Michael furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. "No need to sound so rude."

I stared at him. Raised an eyebrow.

"I've heard you're a good person. You should solve this crisis nonsense the city's been wrapped in so I can stop festering in this apartment."

"You... want me to negotiate a peace deal between the city and the rebels, bring rest to the angelic community, find a way to get rid of Alexander, and get you out of house arrest?"

"The last one presumably comes undone with one of the others, but yes, that sounds good."

"Do I just come off as a highly skilled person? Like a legitimate professional who knows how to do anything of worth?"

Michael raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I don't believe it either. But people've been dropping your name over the last two decades, and it's all been positive. Just passing mentions, like 'recall Blake? He was a good kid.'"

"That doesn't mean I can do shit."

"But you are an outside operative. I'm cut off up here. My children think I'm either dead or a liar. I need to get out there again and show them that-" He paused, and I waited for him to finish his thought. But he didn't.

"You are a liar though, if you were pretending to be anything like them."

"I am a liar. But at least I am alive. It's good, inevitable really. All parents die, and all children come to see them as... human. I am not like them, and they will see that soon- but I will always be there for them, you see?"

"I can't help save the city. And I have no interest in helping you."

"Why?" Michael asked, and he did it sincerely, blue eyes wide and wondering. Like a strange animal. Like he didn't remember the things I had heard he had done.

"You're a violent, abusive asshole. Anything you get probably deserved."

"At the price of peace, you bring up my past." Michael still sounded hauntingly sincere, honest and forthcoming without the shred of decency required to act ashamed.

"Peace will be handled by someone else. This is just about me helping you, and holy shit, you hit your daughter!"

I saw the first twinge of a reaction, a twitch of the jaw. "She's- yeah, I did, and it was gross."

"Oversimplifying."

"A nearly killed a man that day. That was worse. I screamed at Victoria. That was bad. The thing with Amy was not good." Michael said.

"All reasons why I don't feel comfortable helping you." I thought that was a good line to end on. I started navigating my way out of his apartment.

"But Blake, before you... solidify your opinion on me. Just." Michael said as I walked towards the door. "I can explain, but that'd be like asking for forgiveness. I can tell."

I stood still, hand on the doorknob.

"Amrael isn't mine. I'm infertile, didn't know it at the time. Victoria wasn't cheating on me, just thinking like an angel, solving a problem to make me happy. But I'm- I'm ill, so I didn't think of it at the time. Didn't think of much really besides volume. And anger, when the time came that Gabriel had to pry me off the unconscious body of a demon in a bar, not letting me finish a tirade I had launched without any fact checking."

"Doesn't change things."

"Doesn't change things." Michael spoke as though he was only relaying information, reading it out off of some screen. "But my identity is built on blood, Blake."

"So... I'm going." I said, starting to open the door.

"Blake." Michael sighed. "Look, I've done worse. I've done much worse. Think murder. Think two decades of isolating emotional abuse towards thousands of individuals. Putting one kid- one drunk night- above all that says something about you."

"That I like kids."

"I love kids. I love all my children. I love demons too. And I'll always love Amrael." Michael shook his head. "But god, I'm so fucked up. I can calm the angels down if you convince Kell to let me free. The rest, like you said, will presumably be taken care of by someone more skilled."

I watched him for a minute. Wholehearted. Honest. Disgusting. I didn't want to be nice to him, to agree he had the power to make things better. I wanted to spit out a one liner and walk out the door.

Then lie on my bed and never move again.

"I'll talk to Kell. Not sure if it'll do anything."

Michael grinned, and my soul felt grimy. "This is why people like you! Such a nice kid."

"Yeah?" I said half heartedly as I walked out the door.