I left the bathhouse. I suppose my next destination was going to be the Coalition's clubhouse. It wasn't too far away, and if I was going to carry Michael's message, I might as well deliver it now.

It took me a few tries to find the building Amy had been referring to. The street it was on seemed mostly empty, suspicious for an area so close to the center of town. A couple of the buildings on one side were boarded up, some carrying burn marks or spray painted messages.

At the center was the building that had taken the most damage. Still, a mostly clean sign hung next to the door with the initials 'CFA', as promised.

The inside had seen better days, but it appeared to be the only accessible room. A few musical instruments were piled in a corner by a piano, while the center of the room- a room that seemed designated for reception, I should add- had a few couches situated around a table.

Amy and Alex were here. Amy leapt up when she saw me. I didn't really know why.

"I talked to your dad. He says you shouldn't think he hates his sister, or those kids, and that you need to stop skipping school. And visit Christina McKean some time."

Amy frowned. "He did not say that."

"He did."

"Why did you go talk to him anyways? I told you- I didn't tell you not to, but why would you do that? God Martin. I just need you to fetch these people, that's all. No need to snitch about the details."

"I'm not going to do this for you. But I want to help you."

"What, you're a social worker now? We need you for this. But I mean, if you're not biting you're not biting. Go ahead. Disappoint the children of the three most powerful families."

"You're thirteen, I don't think I have to worry." I rolled my eyes and pointed at the silent Alex. "And he's not actually Alexander's kid."

"I am!" He about shouted at me. "Fuck you."

I sighed. "God. Look. I will call the police on you guys if you keep hanging out in this decrepit building. It was probably abandoned for a reason, and seriously, stay in school kids."

"You sound like you're forty." Amy complained.

"Even if I was a teenager again, I probably would be acting exactly the same. I know it's lame to hear, but school is very important, and spending time with your family is important as well. You never know when they'll be gone."

Amy groaned. "I'm an angel, idiot. My parents are immortal."

"I'm going to leave you now before I start feeling inclined to physically remove you from the premises. But please just..." Kids would be kids. I couldn't really say 'grow up', so I left my thought hanging.

I turned around and left.

So that was a worrying side-plot sealed up tightly. I guess it was the kind of thing I could tell my friends about, assuming I eventually made friends at some point. We'd sit around in a bar- I didn't drink, but I was now picturing a sit-com-esque reality- and chat about hilarious stories. And I could pipe in like 'hey, once a bunch of kids tried to get me to track down a dead guy and a couple other nobodies off earth to piss off that angel Michael.' Canned laughed would probably ensure, since obviously in this sit-com reality I would have told my story in a much funnier fashion. Then the plot would go on.

I went home. I couldn't actually remember if I had work tomorrow or not. Either ways I probably needed to head to the office and write up a report on my latest kill. But I couldn't be sure if Micky would be waking me or not.

My general mess of thought was interrupted by the presence of police outside my apartment complex. There weren't any cars in Hell, and they had to rely on simple bikes with flashing lights to get around. It made for a scene slightly more humorous than the type of situations I was used to when it came to the cops.

I walked to the door, and an officer stopped me. "There's been a murder."

As terrible as that was, I couldn't really say I was very invested in it. "How long before I can go to my apartment again? I'd like to sleep."

"Which level do you live on?"

"Eleventh."

She did a sort of worried shiver thing. "That's the level we found the victim. We'll need to question you."

"I'm pretty new here, and I didn't really know anyone."

"Did you know Rhausael?"

"An angel? No. I only knew Halbeth."

"There was an attack on Halbeth as well. He's critically injured, but has described his attacker as a darker skinned young man quite like yourself, so we'll have to take you in for questioning."

"If I just killed a guy, I really wouldn't be trying to come home right now."

"I don't believe you're guilty. I just need to ask you a few questions."

"Yeah, no, I'm not whining here. Weirdly used to it, unfortunately. But then can I return home?"

"There's still blood and evidence in the hall. I'm afraid not."

"Ug. I'm exhausted."

The officer smiled. "Look, I'm really sorry. I just need your name, and some information about what you've been doing tonight."

"Oh, at least I should actually have an alibi tonight. My name's Martin Robles, by the way, and I work in sales. Around eight I met with a group of six kids at the central square. Then I went to the angelic bathhouse, and met with Michael- though surely plenty of others saw me there. And then I just came from- well, no real proof there, but I came from those abandoned apartments, like the damaged ones with 'CFA' written on them?"

"Church street? What were you doing there."

I rubbed my head. I was getting tired enough that I could feel a headache forming. "Those six kids from before contacted me out of nowhere. They have a clubhouse in one of the buildings there. If you want, I can give their full names. They'll vouch for me."

"Do you have any exact times? We don't know the actual time of death yet, but it was within the last hour."

I didn't even know what hour it was right now. "No. But if you really think I'm a huge suspect, I'm sure there were security cameras that picked me up along my routes."

"Okay. Considering you just stumbled here on your own, you're not a high priority suspect. I'll be keeping your contact information on hand if we need anything else from you."

"Just take my polite word on this. I didn't kill this random guy."

"Never said you did, Martin. But he's not random- he's an angel. And that's a lot of motivation for a lot of demons."

I was forced to call Micky and sleep in his house for the night. He wasn't really sure what to do with me, coming over and trying to offer me wine and entertainment. I just fell on his couch and collapsed.

The next morning, we had breakfast together. It was mostly in silence.

"...So how did your date go last night?" He asked me.

"Wasn't a date. Bunch of kids wanted me to do things on Earth for them, and I got caught up in trying to tell one of their parents for long enough that when I got home one of my neighbors had been murdered."

"That really is too exciting for you." Micky raised his brow.

"I saw Christina McKean naked."

"Shit, seriously? I've been trying to f-" He sounded very excited, and then composed himself suddenly. "Now how did that happen?"

"She was with Michael at the bathhouse. Are they friends?"

"Yeah. Dude, I'm always forgetting you're like twenty years behind the gossip. Truthfully, she's somewhat before my time as well, but she was really one of the big instigators of the peace treaty. Now that that's done, she- I'm not really sure what she does. She's married to Kell, maybe you know, which is why I need to practice holding my tongue about her. You might be a little too... dreamy-headed to think of this, but I'll be attending the big end-of-cycle celebration as an ex member of The Few. I really can't afford to get on his bad side."

"What, is he particularly vicious?" The name 'Kell' was roughly meaningless to me, but probably in the future I would know who all these famous people were. I ought to try and learn things about them while I still could.

"Nah, never seen him get angry before. He's real calm. Getting real old, too. Honestly, I have no fucking idea why someone like Christina married someone as old as him. Creepy as hell, that's what it is... But never mind that. He has some real influence, you know, and I don't want to piss him off."

"She seemed pretty close to Michael." I said, taking another bite out of my sugary cereal. This marshmallow-laced catastrophe probably cost Micky a ton to import.

"There's plenty of rumors claiming they're having an affair. Again, I mean, she isn't exactly married to a dreamboat. Do you think she chose him for the money or something?"

I looked at him blankly. "I dunno. They didn't really seem all relationship-like. Just close."

"It's weird to bath naked with friends though. Just... so weird."

"There were a couple other people there too, also. This other girl with long red hair and a bunch of old scars seemed familiar?" I phrased the thought as a sentence and hoped Micky picked up on it.

"Oh yeah! That sounds like Lilith Starlin. She's the spokesperson for The Few right now. Not really sure why they hired her on. Like, we did fine without one before. And I know for a fact she was involved in all that cult business years ago."

"Cult business?"

"Oh, the whole city was run by a cult for a few months fourteen years ago. Don't worry about it, they're almost all gone now. Psycho fucks that they were."

"...Do we have work today?"

"Work? Ah, yeah, nah. I don't have anything planned. But if you want, we can always pull a couple deals a few weeks early. I swear, they won't even care in the end, and if they sue I got plenty of connections to get us out of it."

"Let's not do that."

Micky frowned. "Okay, so I guess we'll just write reports again today. I really hate this job. My last one was way better."

"Wasn't your last job senseless murder?"

"Yeah, but it was fun. And I was good at it." Micky read my worried expression, and ceased his grin immediately. "Don't freak out though. I have a heart, and a conscious, and all that. I regret all the lives I took now that we're at peace and all that. But for a long time, you gotta understand it was a lot like a game. Just tearing people down who were nothing like me. I bet a lot of angels feel the same way."

I hadn't been very surprised the previous night when I heard an angel had been killed. There was one rather shocking aspect to it, as angels were supposedly a bitch to kill, but otherwise inter-species violence didn't seem all that notable. I didn't have the means to check, but it probably was the first murder of an angel to happen- but it wouldn't be the last.

So many people were happy to have peace, and considered everyone happy equals and all that. But a lot of people like Micky were still out there, those who were comfortable with the old ways. And tolerated change, but quite feasibly, could think of hundreds of way for that change to fail.

We left Micky's ritzy apartment around ten, and there was a note for me on the door. It just said 'Seen you on TV, see you at four in Blues.'

"Another mysterious message." I said out loud. When had I appeared on TV? At the crime scene? I wanted to blame Amy, but it didn't make sense for her to note she had seen me on TV. Then again, maybe it did. She really was the only person I could think of with an interest in tracking me.

"That might be for me." Micky said. I was relived at the idea. He used to be somewhat famous. It wasn't too odd that someone might leave him a weird note.

"Yeah. Are you going to go?"

"No, we should go!" Micky seemed very excited all of a sudden. "The Blues is awesome. I never have an excuse to hang there. Just come with me- well, four is sort of early. But come with me, we'll meet this stalker, have dinner, and get black-out drunk on white light. Maybe take a some chicks home for the night."

"Uh." Parties were not my thing. I wasn't really an introvert, believe it or not, but I never drank and parties always wore me out before I could have any fun at them. "I probably need to head home and see if I'm free to move back into my apartment."

He gave half a laugh, and it died off sharply. "Right. Yeah. I know it's only been like one night, so you probably think I'm insane, but I kind of forgot you don't live with me."

"It's okay." I said. "We can head down and meet this person together, if you'd like, but I'm not really into nightclubs."

"It'd do you some good." He said with distaste, but I knew he probably meant well.

Work passed exceedingly quick, as it became apparent that Micky was restless for four to come. I had him write my report for me- well, really he asked me if he could do it- and then he spent the rest of the day staring out the window. Technically, nothing was keeping us here now that our work was done. We were paid exclusively on stages of commission.

Micky straddled his chair and rolled over to me. "I'm going to die."

"Why are you so pumped for this anyway?"

"I know I may seem like a perfect little worker man, but I really could use some excitement. I tend to tone down my need for excitement more when you're around, of course, since you seriously need it more than me. But I hope this secret person is a spy. Or a hired killer."

"They're not going to be an assassin."

"Okay, but maybe they're a pretty good looking girl who saw my image on TV and just fell right in love with me. And then I'll have a pretty, and good looking, girlfriend."

"Honestly, when it comes to random meetings, I'd bet we're dealing with someone who just saw you on TV, got angry about something, and has contacted you to yell at you repeatedly."

"Yeah, or a pretty lady hopelessly in love with me. God, I'm really pumped either ways. If it is an angry old lady, I hope she tried to attack me so I can punch her in the face. I've gone far too many years without breaking a nose, Martin."

Sometimes it was hard to tell when Micky was kidding or not. He had a sense of humor that relied almost exclusively on sarcasm and threats of violence. This time, I was able to tell he was mostly joking, and laughed alongside him.

At three thirty, Micky rushed me through the process of putting on my coat and seemingly skipped to the door. As he led me to our destination, he seemed genuinely happy. I guess it was kind of cute- it's always cute when someone is enthusiastic- but seeing this level of excitement come from a muscular ex-footballer was also pretty funny. I held back a laugh.

"What is The Blues anyway?"

"The Blues and The Banes is only the sickest nightclub in town. Highly exclusive, highly expensive. It's not actually that flashy of a place, truth be told, but it's where all the important people hang. I haven't had friends in years to go with me. And I don't want to be a loser and go alone."

"I probably won't like it much then."

"I know, I know, you're some kind of fun hating machine. But seriously, there's a lovely view over the city and they serve excellent dinners. The party stuff is only late at night."

I had no idea where he was leading me, but that soon was irrelevant. We turned a corner and Micky gasped comically at the presence of the police.

"Fuck, they're totally at The Blues!" He said, and he ran forward.

I walked after him. By the time I got into earshot of the conversation he was having with an officer, he was already talking at full force.

"...Need to get in there, as we have an appointment, and you may recognize me as Michael Withers, former Scorpio of The Few with a higher kill count than your age, most likely. I need you to clear the premises immediately." He lectured to the officer, who merely pointed at me and then motioned to another officer to join him.

I recognized her from the previous night. "Again you stumble onto a murder, Marin."

I shrugged. "I have pretty bad luck."

"We've had the building on lockdown since the murder, and there were enough witnesses that we know it wasn't you. Still, this is the fifth one in the last twelve hours. It's not official news yet, but I'm starting to wonder if this is the work of some kind of anti-angel group. We'll need you for further questioning today."

"No!" Micky said. "Come on. He's been with me all night, and I know he never left."

The officer raised an eyebrow. "Very well. But there's a body up there. Someone leapt up and killed the angel Doaziel and then fled down the staircase. No one has been seen leaving the building since. You two can't be allowed to enter."

"We have a meeting to attend." Micky said, taking the crumpled note out of his jacket pocket and presenting it to the officer.

"There's a crime scene upstairs."

"I still outrank you. I have full military rights to barge right up wherever I want to. And if we run into the killer, well, me and Martin are a duo. We can take them."

"Uh, we don't really need to go in there. I'd rather not see a dead body." I said, trying to calm Micky down.

"Have you never seen a horror movie?"

"Movies are fake. And that person will probably try to reschedule if they have something important to say. Let's just go."

"I already claimed full military rights on this situation. Come on. The body's only going to be in one area. We'll walk right around it."

"Uh, right. Okay." I said. I knew I wasn't capable of talking him out of it. He even grabbed my hand for a few seconds to pull me forward. "Okay."

An officer in the entrance hall of The Blues frowned at us, but Micky pointed at his face and walked by. The small hall was shoddy and tacky, with golden trim on flowery wallpaper. The interior of the elevator was no better. It had a design I could imagine a child planning, with eye-searing red carpet and way too much gold.

The top floor didn't seem to be a crime scene. A few cops were standing in one area, and by the door, but there were still customers in the bar area. The whole place seemed to be a sort of lounge, actually far classier than I had been expecting. Bit messy though.

"How do we find my lovely admirer anyway?" Micky said, scanning the crowd. Once or twice he waved to someone.

"Probably sit down. They'll come to us, I guess."

I looked around as well. Probably a lot of people were were rich, but not many dressed it. I guess Micky had defined as more or less an exclusive social club. I saw Christina sitting with a man I presumed to be her husband at the far edge of the curved room. As I was about to point her out to Micky, I noticed someone else.

"That's who I'm here to meet." I said.

In the very back, alone and by the window, was a ghost.