I hope I remembered the participial form correctly.

-EDG

--

"Lord Laurence," whispered Vapula, Prince of Technology, "I had thought that you might be here 
today."

But he was alone.

The cathedral rang with his whisper, soft as it was, but it did not garner more than an annoyed 
look from a tired acolyte.  There were no other penitents at this hour: strange, for a day as 
holy as today.  As Vapula looked around, however, a man dressed in burlap robes and cord 
sandals entered, and sat down beside him.

"You have chosen the wrong cathedral, friend Vapula," he whispered.

The Prince smiled.  "You know me, then.  And you know why I cannot join the mighty in their 
French stronghold.  The Light there is too strong for me even in my sane moments.  I had hoped 
that the Archangel I seek could join me here as well."

A grin split the darkness under the other's cowl.  "Laurence prefers to devote himself today.  
One of his aspects remains in the Cathedral of the Sword, with the blessed souls.  Another 
spends the entire day, from the first moment in the Gilbert Islands to the last moment in the 
Aleutians, in silent prayer and contemplation in Notre Dame Cathedral.  He spares no other 
attention."

Vapula nodded.  "What you say makes sense.  But who, then, are you?"

The man pulled his hood back, revealing a tanned face framed by long, loose hair.  "I'm the 
escapee," he said.  "Eli Evanescens, at your service."

"I might have known," said the Prince, laughing quietly.  "Why do you come to me?  Is our 
meeting random, or strange kismet?"

"I hoped you would be here today," Eli said softly.  "I had to see for myself."

Vapula nodded, and then stiffened as a new voice rang through the cathedral.  "As did I."  The 
voice was strong, almost overbearing, a rich baritone with a razor edge.  "I had thought my 
Soldiers were taking lessons from their Balseraph masters until I actually saw you here."  The 
owner of the voice was the very image of a medieval church official, with long, flowing robes 
in crimson and violet and a velvet tri-corner hat with gold trim.  He stood at the end of the 
pew that Vapula and Eli shared, grinning a shark's grin.  "I wish to hear that you have 
entrapped the Archangels of Creation and the Sword in a web of deceit and treachery.  I wish to 
hear that your words in this church have been a carefully-planned charade.  I wish to hear that 
your loyalty to our organization remains without question.  Will you tell me these things?"

"My connection to our organization has never been more solid, Prince Asmodeus -"

"You lie," said Asmodeus, and shot Vapula through the head.

Eli gasped and stood suddenly, Vapula's surprised expression falling inches from the 
Archangel's bare toes.  "You are a liability now, Prince Vapula," said the Prince of the Game, 
nearly spitting Vapula's name as the body began to hiss and dissolve back into the Symphony.  
The sound of the gunshot still rang through the arches of the cathedral as Asmodeus returned 
the gun to its holster.  "When he returns, tell him that he is no longer welcome in our 
organization."  Eli nodded mutely, backing away slightly from the now-skeletal corpse.  
Asmodeus folded his arms and swept out of the cathedral, vanishing as the morning light struck 
him.

To Eli's left, a confessional opened amid a sudden humming, and Vapula stepped out, his face 
straightening and regaining its sanity as the house of God claimed its effect upon him.  "He... 
shot me."  Eli nodded.  "He shot me," Vapula repeated, his voice nearly breaking, "and 
shattered my Laboratory.  The work of centuries, of millennia... gone at Asmodeus's whim."

Eli walked forward as quickly as he dared, hearing the dust that was all that was left of the 
old vessel snap and spit as individual motes returned to the Symphony.  "Come with me," he said 
simply.  "I will help you if you come with me.  You must trust me, however."

Deep in the heart - not the Heart, the crystalline structure that is a demon's connection to 
Hell, but the very core of his soul - every demon knows a secret longing.  Even though he might 
deny it, for fear that others might see it as a sign of weakness or treachery, it sits, 
waiting, pulsing, and it is undefiable.  Deep in the heart, every demon looks at the sky, at 
Heaven above, and thinks, that is *home*.

Vapula nodded.

"I will do what you ask.  Hell has no place for me anymore."  The former Prince took Eli's 
outstretched hand, and together they walked to the rear of the cathedral, where the altar and 
lit censers stood ready.

To the side, the acolyte smiled.  I was loath to abandon my prayer with even a fraction of my 
attention, he thought, but Eli, how glad am I that you called me here.  Today we have *two* who 
rise to be among us.