I dismissed the class, and watched as they departed. Martha's return had been an unexpected bonus from the destruction of the warehouse and its pacification project: one which proved that we'd at least got something right today.

"You should go home and get very drunk," Nathaniel commented.

"I intend to," I answered. Or at least go somewhere...

"Are you expecting her tonight?"

Her, I guessed, was Anita Hamilton: the Soldier of God I hoped to keep in the War, despite Esek's removal from it.

"Not tonight," I replied, feeling more than anything else an overwhelming desire to be on my own.

He shrugged.

"I'll stay here anyway...in case she shows."

I nodded to him, accepting that it was his way of giving me the evening to myself, and then picked up the sheathed katana and headed out of the dojo. I walked for a while, unwilling to head home, but not really sure where to go instead, and after an hour or so I found myself standing beside a pair of stone gateposts. The sign beside them read "St. Michael and All Angels".

Some kind of sub-conscious desire or message? Or a cruel joke?

I shrugged, closed my hand around the scabbard, and then walked into the east door of the church. It was dark and quiet...matching my mood in that respect... but at least there was a feeling of peace. I slipped into a pew at the back and sat, and then, after silently repeating the words of the Lord's Prayer to myself, I let my mind wander onto what had happened.

Losing control to fear. Probably one of a Malakite's worst nightmares – certainly one of mine - and one I had not suffered so acutely since Japan in the fifties. Now it happened twice in the space of a week - first in Beleth's nightmare, and then again, this morning in the warehouse. And in both cases, the fear had paralysed me such that I would have been an easy mark for any of the Enemy who wished to add a Malakim scalp to their tally. It was purely luck, both that night in the flat and again this morning, that there had not been any of them around to take advantage of that.

It bothered me, too, that both times the primary image used to generate the fear was the same. A blazing summer afternoon on Tower Hill, and the headsman's axe.

Why that? Was it purely because that had been my first time in the War, and the time when death affected me most? I can only assume so, even though since then I have certainly been the victim of fear. Being reminded of that first failing, though...and twice in such short succession, when I'd thought those memories were long buried. I could feel my usual inner equilibrium shaken by it, and the darkness of the recurring memory was beginning to weigh heavily on my mind.

I'm not ready to give up this incarnation just yet, but I was beginning to wonder if someone else had other ideas.

"Can I help you?" came a voice off to my left.

I looked up to see the priest of that place looking at me, his expression pleasant, but with a trace of surprise. Still, I suppose there aren't that many Orientals in Southampton, outside of the University, and even fewer who would darken the door of a church.

I shook my head. "Just thinking."

"Sometimes it helps to talk," he offered, quietly.

"I expect you'd neither understand nor approve," I answered, trying to soften the comment with a smile.

"You might be surprised," he replied.

On the off chance, I tried to read him, and when, to my surprise, I succeeded I saw a man firm in his own faith, but ignorant of the fact that Southampton had become a battleground between good and evil in a far more real way than he was prepared for.

"The part of the War in which you serve, and my own aren't particularly compatible," I said, looking at him, and I saw his eyes flick to the sheathed weapon on the pew beside me. He frowned slightly – I suppose because bringing weapons into a church has always been virtually taboo - but then his expression relaxed as he realised it was sheathed and likely to stay that way.

"While I genuinely appreciate your offer, it's probably best if I don't burden you with my thoughts," I continued, "I hope you'll let me sit awhile, though..."

"Of course," he answered, "if you change your mind, I will be over there."

He indicated the door to the side of the sanctuary.

"Thank you."

With a last glance at me, he walked in that direction, leaving me to my own devices. I watched him go, and then went back to my contemplations.

In one thing, he was right. I probably did need to talk to someone. But who on earth can an angel really talk to about matters of the War? Burdening a priest with it would probably do more harm than good, as knowing angels and demons were physically walking around would most likely challenge his beliefs in ways he would not have expected, and that would be unfair to him.

That left another angel, but of the ones I knew were currently both incarnate and in the general vicinity, Nathaniel was the only one I knew well enough to even think about considering as a friend. And going as far as admitting the fear I had felt from the Habbalite to him... when he had met me at the dojo before my class I had realised I couldn't do that: he disapproves of the way I live down here enough, without my admitting that fear to him.

"Any advice gratefully accepted," I said, quietly, looking towards the altar and the statue of my Lord Michael off to one side - sword in hand, instead of axe, the way the mortals usually depict him.

Of course, I was met with silence, and truth be told, I hadn't expected any different. To believe you always have the ear of your Superior would be an act of insufferable pride that even I wasn't willing to aspire to. While I have rather fallen into the habit of considering the Deadly Sins as advisory, I don't normally go all out to commit them that blatantly.

I stayed where I was for a few more minutes, enjoying the silence, and then got to my feet and slipped out of the door to start the long walk home.

I unlocked the door of the flat and went inside and up the stairs. All was dark and quiet, which presumably meant that not only Nathaniel, but also Lucas had had the decency to leave me to my own devices that night. Obviously the youngster was learning that sometimes people need their own space.

Whether I'd manage to think my way through things in their absence or not...that was a different matter.

I turned on the light, crossed to the sideboard and returned dai-sho to their stand, and then headed for the bathroom, where I started running myself a shower. I stood under the warm water for some time, enjoying the sensation, and trying to soothe away the memories of the day. However, while I could feel some of the physical tension flowing out of my body, the memories of the fear were still there.

I turned off the shower, dried off, wrapped a towel around my waist and went back into my room. There, I pulled on a pair of shorts and a silk kimono, before walking back into the living room and over to the drinks cabinet. I opened it, looked at the bottle Lord Eli had given me, decided it was too good to waste on a bad day, and reached for the Suntory whisky. I poured myself at least a double of the warm, golden liquid, put Riyuchi Sakamoto on the stereo, and sat down in my usual chair, with the bottle on the table beside me.

I downed the glass quickly, refilled it, and did the same again, but even then it didn't seem to help. I still felt restless both in mind and body, and knew that getting drunk would only deal with one of those. It wouldn't really solve the problem: that of how to regain the equilibrium I felt I'd lost. I stood, refilled the glass and rested it on the drinks cabinet, and then cleared a space in the centre of the room - that was one of the main reasons for buying the flat I had: when the furniture was cleared to the sides, there was room in the lounge to train.

I drained the glass again, then took off the kimono and crossed to the stand where the dai-sho were resting. I picked up the katana and unsheathed it. I considered the blade for a moment, as always being taken by the sheer beauty of the workmanship, and then I drew the razor-sharp edge across my left palm, and saw the dark red blood well up where it had passed.

The pain was sharp and quick, and I realised that the cut was deeper than I had intended – were I mortal, it would probably have needed stitches. However, even breaking oaths in private is unforgivable, and therefore blood had needed to be drawn. I opened the drawer of the table on which the stand rested, took out one of the strips of white silk I kept in there for cleaning weapons and wiped it along the bloody edge of the blade. That done, I wrapped the soft material around the palm of my hand, tying the knot tightly across the back. Then I considered that I was ready.

I headed back into the centre of the room and started going through a series of Tai Chi-like moves, balanced by the familiar weight of the katana blade, in a sequence I'd developed for myself in Japan in the last years of the sixteenth century. The old and familiar repetition was comforting, and through a combination of that and the whisky, and in part also the pain from my hand as another focus, I could soon feel myself relaxing...being taken by the pattern of what I was doing.

The ring on the doorbell snapped me out of the semi-trancelike state I had achieved with the grace of a motorbike hitting a van. I felt a surge of anger, but resisted the temptation to slam my blade down on the side table. Instead, I laid it down gently, almost reverently, and pulled the kimono around myself, tying it closed with the belt. Glancing at the clock, I realised I’d been working out for over an hour, and could feel the alcohol coursing through my veins, making me feel somewhat light-headed on top of everything else.

Frustrated and angry, I went downstairs to at least verbally, and quite possibly physically, take a piece out of the person who had disturbed me. However, as I looked through the spy hole in the door, I was more than a little surprised to see Anita waiting outside. Realising that my first impulse would be wrong, given who it was and the fact that I had been trying to earn her trust, not lose it completely, I consciously fought down my anger. Once I felt a little more under control, I unlocked the door and opened it.

"I hope you don't mind me arriving unannounced," she said, quietly, in a tone that suggested she had never considered that I might.

"I thought we weren't meeting again until Monday," I replied, perhaps rather more abruptly than I should have.

"We weren't," she answered, a trace of nervousness coming into her voice, "but a lot of strange things seem to have been going on today...and...well, I rather wanted someone to talk to, and I suspect you can probably answer me better than most. I found your address in Esek's phone book..."

Seeing that I didn't have a lot of option if I had any chance of building up her faith in myself and the others, I opened the door more fully, let her step inside, and gestured towards the stairs. She headed up into the lounge, while I closed and locked the door once more. Then I followed her, to find her looking with some surprise at the arrangement, and more especially at the unsheathed katana on the table.

"I was going through a few moves," I said, by way of explanation, as I picked it up, returned it to its scabbard, and placed it back on the stand under the wakazashi.

"I thought you did that at the dojo."

"Sometimes I find it beneficial to do so here, also," I replied, still a little more sharply than I had intended. Then I realised I was being ungracious, and consciously tried to get that in check as well

"Can I get you anything?"

"If you have a coffee..." Then she noticed the crude bandage around my hand. "You’re hurt?"

"Nothing serious," I replied, although in truth I could feel it stinging, and I wasn’t completely sure it had stopped bleeding. "Please...sit."

Not waiting to see if she did so, I headed into the kitchen to put the kettle on. I got the cafetière out of the cupboard, scooped some coffee into it and waited. As I did so, I started running through a few mental calming exercises, wishing they weren’t being hampered by the whisky I had consumed earlier.

Once I felt slightly more clear headed, I unbound the bandage and cleaned the cut under the tap. It was still weeping slightly, however, I judged that it would heal soon enough – and if all else failed, there was always the option of a Song. I rinsed the makeshift bandage, before tying tightly around my hand once more.

Outside, I could hear her moving around the room, pausing occasionally...perhaps to look at one of the pictures or one of the weapons on the wall. I poured the water on the coffee grounds, then put the cafetière and a pair of mugs, plus some milk and sugar onto an tray, and went back into the lounge. I rested the tray on the main dining table, and then waited for it to brew.

"I'd understood that you...your kind...you know...didn't really own things," she commented as I came back into the room.

She still seemed rather tense, and as I'd got the impression when we'd met before that she was scared of me, I guessed that that wasn’t helping. Especially when taken in conjunction with the fact that I hadn’t been expecting visitors, and so she hadn’t caught me at my best

"It depends on our roles," I replied.

"But the paintings...and the swords..."

"We all need to have a hobby," I answered, then thought about Nathaniel and couldn't resist a half smile, "well, at least some of us do."

"Where did you collect all these things?"

"I've owned a lot of them for a long time, collecting them over the years," I answered, "some of the paintings are mine, too, although the rather better ones are those I've bought along the way."

"This reminds me of that movie Highlander...McLeod's collection and the place he lived."

"That was a film," I answered, "I'm afraid this is real."

She looked at me and gave me a nervous smile.

"It still seems unreal to me...Cassian," she replied, quietly, "The War. The fact that angels and demons really exist. The fact that I've become involved in it all, even in a limited way…even though I have no regrets about doing so."

I guessed the coffee was ready, and pushed down the plunger, before pouring out the warm, dark liquid.

"How do you have it?"

"Milk, no sugar," she answered. I added the milk to her mug and then handed it to her. I poured my own - black, as usual - and downed it immediately, then got a refill before sitting down opposite her. As I did, I could see her observing me.

"You really aren't how I imagine an angel to be," she commented after a few minutes.

"In what way?" I asked, trying to decide whether to be amused or insulted.

"Before I met Esek...even after, to some degree...I'd always thought of angels as more...holy."

"Holy?"

"Like the pictures. Even down to the large white wings and the halo. I just can't see you like that. I mean, looking around this flat...looking at you even...you seem so...down to earth."

"The War is being fought down here as much as up there," I answered, "and on earth the participants have to fit in with humanity, or there would be a lot of very frightened people around. Either that, or the asylums would be filled to overflowing because for all their beliefs and faith, if people were presented with angels and demons running around on the six o'clock news, they'd probably freak. I would have thought Esek would have explained."

"He did, to some degree...but I think he kept some things back. He certainly didn't seem to revel in life and being human the way it seems you do, from looking around here. He was much more...businesslike"

"Is that why you are more wary of me than you were of him? Putting aside what he told you I was. Because I don't fit the image you picked up from him?"

She shrugged, and then gave a small nod. I responded with a half smile.

"I can be businesslike when I need to be," I explained, "but I've been down here often enough now that I find I rather like it. And it's certainly where my strengths are. Sure, I can do wings and halo if I have to, but the corporeal world is the place where I can do the most for the War."

"How come?"

"I've lost one too many fights...up there. And it takes us a while to rebuild our strength when that happens. While I'm doing that, the place I can serve best is here."

She paused a moment, her expression pensive, and took a drink from her mug. After a short while, she looked up at me again.

"Did you manage to find Esek?" she asked, quietly.

"Yes," I answered.

"What did you do with him?"

"I did as I told you I would. I have returned him to my Lord Michael."

"Do you think he'll help him?"

"I am sure my Lord will do what's best for him," I replied, thanking the powers that be that I hadn't been created a Seraph - given that it was fifty-fifty whether my Superior would try to heal Esek, or disassemble him and start again with a new model, "it may take a long time, though. What happened to him will take some mending."

She nodded, and sat quietly for a moment, staring at her coffee. I drank some more of my own as I waited for her to continue, hoping that it would help sober me up a bit.

"What did you want of me?" I asked, finally, "you said something about strange things going on."

"This morning. It felt as if something had disturbed the balance of things. I tried to find out what it was, and saw a couple of strange reports on the local news: some kind of mysterious goings on at Ocean Village, and reports of a major fire in the warehouse district."

"You can't believe everything you see in the news bulletins."

"No...but I know that you and your companions have been responsible for similar things before…fires especially…in the recent past. Esek told me about some of them. What I felt and saw seemed akin to those."

I smiled.

"Your instinct is correct. The warehouse was a facility dedicated to the Prince of Technology, and once we had learned that, it needed dealing with."

"Did you kill them?"

"Personally, or between us?"

"Either."

"Yes, and yes," I answered.

"Using that?"

She indicated the katana on its stand.

"Using that," I answered, "the way I have for a long, long time."

I could see that she was uncomfortable with the idea, even though I knew from the first time I had met her, and managed to read her, that her dedication to the War, and our cause was a true one.

"The creatures in the warehouse were trying to harm the people of this town: if not physically, then by trying to change their thoughts and feelings. They had to be stopped, and we made sure they were. That's what we do." I paused a moment, then continued, "We're soldiers in a War, Anita, sworn to try to defeat the Enemy or die in the attempt. The trick is to try to do it with as little pain and harm to those who live in ignorance of the true state of things as possible."

"Have you...?"

"Have I what?"

"Died in the attempt."

"That is rather the lot of my Choir," I answered.

She took a sip from her mug, then looked up at me again.

"What happened?"

I couldn't resist a smile. "Which time..? There have been quite a few."

I could see surprise on her face.

"I had the impression from Esek that dying meant more to you than that."

"To the others, yes," I replied, "to the Malakim...we have a habit of being on the front line of things, and therefore we get rather inured to it. The first time I died down here, it hit me hard, but the pain lessened over time and with familiarity with the process. Now... while I wouldn't get myself killed by choice, at least I recover from it pretty well."

"When was the first time?" she asked, genuinely curious as far as I could tell. As she asked, I could see that summer afternoon again, and could once again feel the fear I had been trying to overcome. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to fight it down. As I did, I heard a movement, and then felt her hand on my shoulder. It seemed strangely comforting.

"I shouldn't have asked, should I?" she said, quietly, as I opened my eyes and looked up at her.

"Your timing could have been better," I answered, a wry smile on my face. Then I realised that it was possible that the timing was exactly what it should have been. After all, I had asked for advice...

She stepped back, a puzzled look on her face, and for the first time I saw signs that the tension she had had when she arrived was beginning to fade. Perhaps what was needed for her to realise that we weren't completely perfect either.

"Are you alright? You seem troubled."

"I've had better days," I replied, draining the rest of my coffee.

"Do you need someone to talk to?"

The question was asked awkwardly...as if it hadn't occurred to her before that one of my kind might actually want something like that. Thinking about it, I suppose most of us wouldn't... I knew, though, that during my many lives, I had become more...human, for want of a better word...than most. Something I knew Nathaniel considered to be a major flaw in my being.

"It depends if you really want to listen," I answered, a little surprised, "counselling Malakim who've had a bad day isn't obligatory in the line of work you've signed up for."

There was a pause, and then she nodded. I poured us each another mug of coffee, draining the pot in the process, and then returned to my place. She sat down opposite me, and waited.

"Have you ever been deeply, deeply afraid? So much so that you could not move because of the terror?"

She shook her head.

"Some of our opponents have the ability to do that to us, and one of them was in that warehouse this morning."

I paused for a moment, as I felt myself shudder, and I saw a look of concern on Anita's face. I shook my head, and continued.

"Things seemed to be going pretty well initially: we got inside with remarkably little trouble, and started checking the place over. We found the evidence that certain individuals there had been involved in a plan to try to pacify the people of Southampton, and knew they had to be stopped. From there, it was a case of finding them and dealing with them"

"Killing them..."

"Before they did the same to us. You cannot let that bother you, if you are part of the fight."

"I know," she answered, quietly, "but as I said, it is taking some getting used to."

Strangely enough, I could understand her point of view, having brought over a couple of Soldiers myself in past lives. It was hard for them to realise what might ultimately be expected of them in the beginning. But I had also seen those who had chosen the path follow it to the end.

"We found the first one in an office. It was definitely one of the Enemy, and I made sure that it couldn't alert its companions to our presence... don't worry, it was as quick and as painless as these things can be. Then we went into the room where the others were. There were four of them: and we'd identified three of them earlier, so there was no question that they were our targets, and they were speaking with some deference to the fourth. We moved in as quickly as we could and joined battle.

One of them wounded one of my companions very badly. It fell to me to kill it, and I did so because to put it bluntly, that's what I do. Another tried to shoot Nathaniel...and likewise, it met the appropriate fate. The third tried to escape, and another of my companions went after it. That left me with the fourth...a Habbalah. I turned to face it, and then..."

I paused a moment, and in my mind's eye I could see the face of the old man the three demons had called the professor. And I could hear his words.

"Be afraid. Be very afraid."

Once again, I felt myself freezing...standing completely defenceless in front of the Enemy, with all the effort I could muster being put into standing my ground, rather than fleeing in terror like a babe. Everything else was a blank, except for the fear and the images of Tower Hill, until I found myself picking up a fire extinguisher and laying about myself with it, to try to destroy everything those monsters had built in that place, and hardly caring if any of my own group were in the way.

"Cassian?"

I shook my head when I heard the voice, and then saw Anita looking down at me, her hand resting on my shoulder and her expression worried.

"You're shaking...what is it?"

"I couldn't do anything," I replied, looking down, "I turned to face him...and I couldn't do anything. He froze me to the spot with fear...fed by tapping into my memories of the first time I died here. I failed in what I was supposed to do, and got caught like an amateur."

"How did you fail? By your own admission you had already sent two of them back to where they had come from, which was more than your companions had."

"But the last one caught me as simply as he would have caught a child, and I wasn't strong enough to resist him. I expect any of the others I was with would have managed it, but me...the one who's supposed to be the old hand at this in a group of comparative youngsters...I fell foul of it and he had me exactly where he wanted me."

"He didn't get you, though," she said, quietly, perching on the arm of the chair I was sitting in, and very gently taking my wounded hand in hers, "you're here, and your companions...what of the one who was badly hurt?"

"Another of our number managed to heal him to some degree."

"So your group sustained no serious casualties...and yet at least three of your opponents died: two at your hand. That doesn't sound too shabby. What of the one who tried to escape?"

"I know they took it prisoner. I don't know what happened after that, as I had to get away from them."

"And the one who you feel you lost to?"

"I understand that it was defeated in the celestial realm...the realm where I am too weak to operate with any guarantee of success."

"But it was defeated...?"

"I believe so."

I felt her run her hand down my cheek, and tip my chin up so I was facing her, and then she spoke again.

"Then your group won, and you played your part in that," she stated, firmly, "that isn't anything to be ashamed of."

She paused a moment, then asked: "Are you really so sure that none of the others was caught by him the way that you were?"

"If they were, I was unaware of it."

"Perhaps you should ask."

I shrugged. "What good would it serve?"

"The way I see it, if it gets you back into the War as your normal self - or what I think your normal self is from looking around this flat and talking to you - it would serve a lot of good."

"But you find it hard to believe that I am what I am.. "

"No, I didn't say that. I said you weren't how I imagined an angel to be," she answered, and I noticed a half smile on her face, "however, I'm beginning to think that an angel who thinks like a human is more easy to relate to than one who stays all business."

I looked up at her, and could see that she seemed to be in earnest about what she was saying, and for the first time since I had started to talk, I felt myself begin to relax. As she saw that, her smile got broader.

"That's better," she said, quietly, "when we met outside the dojo, you had no reason to trust me, but you had faith enough in me to try to talk, and to try to encourage me to stick to the path Esek had helped me choose. Maybe it's time someone had faith in you in return. Someone born and bred down here on earth. That way you don't have to face everything on your own."

I listened to her, nodded, and then realised I was smiling.

"I thought you came here so that I could help you sort things through...not the other way around."

"You have, Cassian," she answered, quietly, "you have."

At the first brush of her lips on mine, I felt something like a charge go through me and it startled me. My instinct was to back away...I had never intended to take advantage of her in that way, and it felt wrong.

However, she slipped her arms around the back of my neck and repeated the kiss, and this time I realised that not only was it what I wanted, but it was what she wanted also. Slowly, I got to my feet and pulled her to hers. Then I slipped my arms around her waist, holding her tightly as our lips met again, and this time, I responded in kind.