The Archangel Files: The Eagle

  By the Last Boy Scout.

 

And when he reached the pearly gates of Heaven.
To St. Peter he did tell
"One more soldier reporting for duty sir
For I’ve served my tour in Hell"

 

 

"Will it be tonight?" Monsignor O’Grady asked his younger colleague.

"Probably?" replied the priest  who had served as the dying man’s physician.

"Will it be painful?" the Monsignor asked, concerned.

"Of course it will John," Father Kimble replied tiredly.  "Cancer is always painful, but we’ll tell the people he went peacefully.  Like we tell every family when they want to know."

"Isn’t it true, in soul, if not in body.  The Bishop is going to meet God, to finally be at peace."

"John, you and I both know the Bishop hasn’t peacefully gone anywhere in his life."

"That is true." The monsignor sighed.

 

Bishop Balus was a hundred and one years old, damned near exactly.  He only had a few more days until his birthday, and he was going to make it.  More than half a century before he had served in the 101st airborne division.  "Screaming Eagles." Just scared kids, most of them had found inordinate strength from the simple priest that had ministered to them, even while they were jumping over Normandy his spirit gave them an inner strength.  Most of them were gone now.  He had been over forty years old when he served with them, and they were just out of their teens; but, by some trick of fate, he had outlived most of them.  Only a few old-timers were left now, only a few who remembered.  Perhaps it was vanity, or mere mockery, but he wanted to be able to report when he reached heaven, "Major Father Jacob Balus U.S.A. 101 years old of the old 101."

Service as a chaplain held little allure for him after the war; and he returned to Boston to take up the maintenance of a small city church.  Fate, or a fickle God, had given him many skills though; and Holy Mother Church had been quick to utilise them.  Jacob was subsequently sent to the Vatican to be an advisor to Popes.  He had risen steadily up the hierarchical ladder until he was a bedridden, cancer infested, Prince of the Church.  One who most definitely would have preferred to have lived his life as a quiet diocesan priest.

Pain wracked him, getting through the morphine-induced fog surrounding him.  The cancer, or more accurately cancers, had steadily infected his body for a decade.  Most of his body was useless now, but paradoxically his mind had been left whole.  Jacob was still able to do work for a long periods at a  time; completely aware of the pain he was going through.  Most other cancer patients, hell, most other 100-year-old men, would have lost touch with reality a long time ago.  Not Big Jake though, he wasn’t going off quietly into the good night.  He still had a fire in him, burning brightly.

 

"’Shine the sun, ever so bright, in the end, must come the night’," said a voice inside the Bishops bedchamber.

The Bishop looked around suddenly not recognising the new entrant’s voice. He was even more surprised when he saw a tall, 40ish, blond bodybuilder type in an expensive suit, rather than seeing one of his various minions.

"Poul Anderson. I’m pleased that young people like you are still reading, but there are two very unsavoury characters downstairs who won’t like you interrupting my ‘rest’"

"Do you feel like you need rest?"

"Actually… no, and I can talk for some reason.   I thought they had shoved ten or so tubes down my throat"

"They did, I removed them so that we can converse."

"Sonny, that was very dangerous, you could have killed me, I don’t particularly care at this point but it could have gotten you in trouble."

"Sonny am I?" the man asked incredulous.

"Well, you have the courtesey to sport a few grey hairs, but anyone under a century is "sonny" to me these days."

"Well, I have the same point of view, though for me, it is anyone younger than the planet."

"Just who in the hell are you?," asked Bishop Balus, suddenly confused.

"I’ll thank you sir, not to utter such obscenities in my presence."

"You obviously don’t get out much, if you think that’s an obscenity."

"Probably true.  To answer your question, Jacob Christopher O’Malley Balus. I am the Archangel Michael.  You’ll have to forgive the lack of wings; but I just came from a business meeting, and I didn’t have time to change.

Jacob Balus was about to tell this practical joker what he could do with himself, when he noticed several things.  The first was that the pain he had known for years was noticeably absent, second, his breathing was steady, third, his hearing was unusually good.  But most telling of all, was the complete lack of medical devices emplaced or inserted in his body.  

"Well then, I’m glad the Mormon’s were wrong."

"They were closer than you know.  Though it really surprises the heck out of them when they show up and see we let in just about everyone."

"A sound policy if I must say."

"I’m glad you agree."

"Am I to assume then that I’m dead Archangel Michael?"

"You can call me Michael or Mickey or Mike.  I’m not particular as long as you don’t try to paint me.  But no, you’re not dead. Dying, yes, haven’t got all the way to dead; but you are very much dying."

"Funny, I feel fine" The bishop replied.

"That’s my doing.  I didn’t want you distracted while we talk."

"That was very considerate of you."

"It’s an Angel thing.  The Boss has been on this compassion kick for a while now. ‘Win their hearts and minds.’  Personally, I like smiting.  We don’t have nearly enough smiting anymore . Why, do you know how long it’s been since I unsheathed my flaming sword?"

"A while?"

"A good long while, the damn thing is starting to rust.  Still, he’s the Boss, I know enough to know I wouldn’t want his job, for all the power in the Universe."

"Has anyone tried? If so, what happened to them?"

"I noticed how you, oh so very casually, brought the conversation around to Lucifer, and if you were heading to his domain."

"Hey Mike, a fellow likes to know his fate."

"Only human of you, I suppose.  No big Jake, you’re not heading down. You have a place reserved for you, upstairs."

"Well, not that I’m complaining, .  I remember this was in your job description, but I didn’t know I rated."

"Normally you wouldn’t, your organisation is effective enough as a subcontractor; but we’ve considered, from time to time, yanking your contract."

"Hey what did we do?"

Michael just scowled down at Jake

"Other than the painfully obvious?"

"Your organization can’t really be blamed; it was a design fault."

"I didn’t think He made mistakes"

"Yea, believe that one; and I have a nice historical monument my family holds title too in Brooklyn, I’ve been wanting to unload for years."

"Will you take a check?"

"Yes, but don’t think dying will get you out of hock to us.  Even in heaven the vig will still be running.

"Pity, all right Michael what’s this all about?"

"A job"

"A job?"

"A much needed, under appreciated, low paying, have to sacrifice your entire life for, kind of job. Your kind of job."

"I’ve had my fill of that kind of Job, job. You say I have a reservation upstairs Archangel.  Haven’t I earned a rest?"

 "May I sit?" asked Michael tiredly

"Please," to which the Archangel sat down at one of the room’s desks.

"You have any idea Big Jake how long I’ve been employed by the Boss?"

"A good long while."

"And I haven’t had a good sized break yet.  If I went on a strike for my workers rights, I would have to take the next millennium off, as back vacation time.  So don’t start on that, ‘haven’t I earned a rest’ bleeding heart crap; because ‘sonny’.  I have you beat every day, and twice on Sunday."

"Yes, I suppose I would have to agree to that Michael.  Tell me about this job," sighed Jake Balus resignedly.

"We’re not in a shooting war anymore; but we are still fighting, and we need warm bodies down here rather than unattached souls up there.  Your knowledge, and extensive experience, makes you uniquely suited for a more direct position in the company."

"Don’t you have people up there that are ten times better then me at my best."

"Some, yes, but most of them don’t have knowledge of this era, and would be a fish out of water on a biblical scale.  Could you imagine dropping some farmer in the 21st century, when the most advanced technology he knew was a donkey."

"It could get messy."

"In more ways than one.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain basic sanitation to some of these new arrivals?"

"So you want me to pull an Aaron huh, lead the armies of the Lord to victory against the forces of Satan."

"Not quite, I hate to burst you bubble but you’re not the centre of the Universe.  Generals we have in amble supply," said Michael, as he gestured at himself.  "We even have enough foot soldiers.  What we do need are good field agents."

"Spies!"

"Call it what you will, though that’s a messy word.  The trouble is though Jake, you’re sick.

"I know that, it’s a funny time for you to be asking me to pull a James Bond, General sir.  I can barely lift my head on a good day."

"Your body we can take care of, that’s no problem, what I meant was your sick soul."

"What’s wrong with it?"

 "You have plenty of stubbornness in you Jacob, Boss knows that, but you have very little joy in this world anymore. And that’s important, you cling to life doggedly, simply because, otherwise you consider it a sign of weakness."

"Take that problem up with your boss."

"He’s your boss too."

"I know, and he’s ‘requiring and requesting I volunteer’ is that right."

"Something like that. Would you?"

"We had an old saying in the Airborne, ‘Never volunteer, you’ll live longer.’"

"I hate to say it, but that is probably true in this case."

"So it’s dangerous, huh?"

"Quite."

"Not just my body then, but my soul would be put on the front lines?"

"You would fight things, occasionally, that would eat it as an afternoon tea biscuit."

"So!  I would finally be free to actually do good works in the world, instead of charity benefits.  Fight the good fight, do what’s right, that sort of thing."

"I don’t know about finally, you did a good job while still complying with the administrators you had over you. They can’t be blamed really, the road downtown is paved with good intentions." 

"So, how do I heal my sick soul to be fit for duty, sir?"

"Joy and happiness, new experiences."

"Sonny I…. Mr Archangel sir, I’m a hundred and one years old, there’s isn’t much left on Gods green earth I haven’t seen or done yet."

"Really?"

"I wasn’t always a priest you know."

"So what your saying is, there is nothing out there that can offer new experiences, to interest you, to make you want to start living and loving again."

"I loved once, she was so much an angel I feel compelled to ask if she worked for you."

"No, a gifted amateur."

"I will never love again, .  It’s one of the reasons why I joined the priesthood after the First World War.  I could never again look at a woman’s face, and not see her. I could never love again Even if you popped me back  into my 18-year-old body, and sent me off as a doughboy, I would just be repeating the same old things.  I have seen things most people couldn’t imagine.  The climb up, Kilimanjaro, the hidden valleys of Nepal, the Angel Falls.  I helped change the world when I was a young man still, and have spent eighty years since, trying to keep it together. No General Archangel sir. There is nothing left for me to be done.  Let me die."

"So sure are you?"

"Forgive the pun, but since we’re talking about the state of my soul, I am pretty damned sure."

"Since I’m a forgiving fellow, I wont hold you to that.  I’m going to institute one of our lesser known directives for this situation, when person can’t find any reason to go on."

"What do you suggest?"

"I was hoping I wouldn’t have to, that you could be content with plan A.  But, after getting a closer look at you, I know you will  shape up, only after a swift kick in the ass and the rearrangement of said.  Don’t worry so about it, if it enables you to be a better agent, then we can afford a little remedial learning."

"I’m not liking the trend of this conversation"

"Plan B it is then."

 

 

"I’m sorry Captain Balus," said the Jesuit priest.

"Just Mister Balus," Jake corrected him. "I resigned my commission after demobilization just like everyone else."

"Very well Mister Balus, but I still regret to inform you. That there are no places in the seminary program at this time."

"If you’re going to spit in my face Jesuit, at least have the decency to tell me you’re doing it. The Father Superior in Boston assured me there was ample space."

"This is not Boston, this is Rome."

"I am aware of that Father, I can see the ruins from here."

"I’m afraid there is nothing I can do for you.  Perhaps you might consider one of the other orders, or you can return to your diocese and participate in their seminary program."

"My uncle was a Jesuit, I was educated by Jesuits, the order is what I wish to enter." 

"Yes, well, Captain Balus, we are a much more scholastic order if you understand my meaning, your education was not completed."

"The war you know," added Jake as a way of explanation.

"Yes the war," agreed the Jesuit as he saddens. "Which, as you inferred, is the root of our problem.  You are rather decorated my friend."

"I didn’t ask for those medals."

"And you are also rather notorious, frankly the people that make these decisions are not entirely convinced you will keep this new religious verve you have acquired."

"Paul was the most vicious persecutor of the early church and he rose to sainthood.  Why can’t the "Soldiers of Christ" accept one more." Jake asked the angered Jesuit.

"That was a miracle," the Jesuit said, as if speaking to a child.  "Something that has become increasingly rare of late.  However, there is something that can be done.  Spend two years finishing your education, and if you still feel the same way, you can return, and I will see what I can do."

"No Jesuit", a disappointed Jake answered him. "I don’t think I shall.  I don’t appreciate servants of God that won’t allow a man his redemption."

"But  you have so very much to be redeemed for.  Don’t you Captain Balus?"

"The Boston area morns the death of renown Roman Catholic Bishop Jacob Christopher O’Malley Balus.  The Bishop had been retired to Boston for some time since his multiple cancers had begun to effect his mobility. He was one hundred years old at the time of his death….. "

Knock!

Knock!

Knock!

 

"Christina Bishop, if you spend one more minute in that bed young lady, I’m coming in  and throwing a bucket of water all over you .  We have to get to church."

 

What the hell, Jake thought to himself, as he began to form conscious thoughts.  Jake could feel something was significantly amiss; but could not identify it straight away.  He had spent the last five years of his life dependent upon strange and invasive machines, so any new discomfort or feeling, when he woke in the morning was not unusual, and he had grown used to it.  This though, was far more than he was used to; and, after a few seconds, he determined that more had changed with his body than a few breathing tubes.

First and foremost, he could sit up, an action he had not been able to complete in some time.  And with said sitting, came a movement on his chest he had never experienced before, namely the movement of unbound breasts on his chest.  Further and quick examination of his body showed him that he was female in all respects, but most damning of all was the long hair he had recently been gifted with.

"Blonde……Shhhhhhhhit! why’d it have to be …..Blonde." Jake uttered in a disgusted but now sweet, soprano voice.   waiting

Jake removed the white bedspread to reveal a thin female form.  He got out of bed to examine himself in the far mirror.  The act of walking was proven to be extremely ambitious on his part.  He had not done so in some time; and even then it had been with a walker.  So he quickly fell on his newly rounded rear.  Big Jake picked himself up, and learned how to walk all over again.  Having the muscle memory of this new body, and a full lifetime to fall back on, he eventually managed to stumble across the room , though the awkwardly designed hips, and the emptiness in his crotch were disconcerting.

Jake could now see, that he couldn’t even help his ego enough by calling himself a woman.  He was a girl barely past the first bloom of womanhood, perhaps sixteen at best.  When he was a he, Jacob Balus had been called Big Jake.  The reason behind this was simple, he was 6’6 three hundred pounds of catholic muscle.  Now, he was barely 5’6; and if he  topped a hundred pounds, Jake would be surprised.  Underneath the pink nightie, Jake had small breasts, but he remembered enough from his studies, that he could count on one or more cups worth of growth if he remained in this body.  Eyes blue, hair that by goddamned blond, and the face was, of course, angelic.

  "Never volunteer." Jake said to himself. "How many fucking times do I have to have that beaten into me NEVER FUCKING VOLUNTEER!"

"Chris!" said a middle-aged blond woman when she walked into the room. "Well I’m glad your up, but you need to get ready, we’re off to church in less than an hour.  Your sister has already annexed the bathroom, so you may be in trouble.  Don’t give me that look young lady, you’re going to church."

"But of course I am" said Jake trying to cope with the situation. "Could you help me Ma’am I’m a bit out of sorts.  What attire would you prefer?"

The woman was taken aback a bit, trying to decide of Jake was serious, or perhaps playing one of the sarcastic games so prevalent in today’s youth.

 "‘Ma’am,’ are you  practicing for another play Christina, because I certainly cant believe this is your normal morning personality.  Particularly considering I had to wake you up ten times.  My lord Christy, you sleep like the dead sometimes."

"Well…Mom," said Jake taking a chance. "I was just trying to put a little humour in the situation, but really, I need some help dressing today.  I have nothing to wear."  Finished Jake taking another risk.

"Oh Chris, you say that every day, and it’s about time you learned to start dressing for formal occasions without your mothers help, your 14 years old.  If you spent just a little more effort shopping for tasteful dresses than you did for microscopic skirts we wouldn’t be in this mess.  Here!" Said Jake’s new mom setting out an outfit.  "And don’t take an age in the shower, remember Noon mass is too crowded, we are going to 10:30, understand?

"Yes ma’am."

"Ma’am," repeated the woman as she shook her head while leaving.

Alone again Jake took a few minutes to take stock of his new situation.

He knew, judging from fairly reliable physical evidence, that he had changed forms. Why this was done was partially unknown though it probably had something to do with the whom.  The Archangel Michael in one of his fits of humour had decided Jakes new job would be better down in skirts.  Why this is so, will have to wait for further evidence.  In the meantime Jake was currently a young, 14-year-old female.  A blond female, who apparently not only had a loving mother, but one who expected her daughter’s attendance at mass in a little under an hour.

Never volunteer…how many times do I ….

"Christy, the shower is open," shouted a girls voice from the other side of the door.

After years of dealing with them in one position or another, Jake knew that hell hath no wrath like a church lady scorned.  And he wasn’t about upset the woman who thought he was her daughter, particularly over something he wanted to do anyway.  He had received communion, but had not been able to attend church in some time.  Jake wanted to see if the upcoming generation of priesthood was still screwing things up by the numbers.

Still stumbling while he walked Jake made it to a door across from his own, only to find out that it was a hall closet. Jake then walked to the next doorway and opened it.

The young woman, and she was a young woman of about 18, gave off a small gasp and then calmed down.

"I thought it was James playing his tricks again, what do you want Christy, " said the young woman as she continued getting dressed, which Jake heartily approved of, as she was almost entirely naked.

"What do you want Christy and why are you looking so sheepish, I don’t have anything you don’t have and have seen a thousand times before, though I do have much more of it.  Is that why little munchkin, are you embarrassed?"

Jake had been part of enough cutthroat organizations that he knew you never showed a sign of weakness on the first day. He supposed womanhood was no different.

"I was just cowering in fear, my god woman; do they let you out in public like that?  At any rate I don’t want to look the same way you do; and I was wondering where the hairdryer is?"  Jake knew it was a lame excuse, but it was the best he could think up on short notice.

"You have one of your own in your room, and if that’s on the fritz again, mine is right where it always is, in the cupboard under the sink."

"Not the last time I looked."

"Then go get it from James; you know how he likes messing with our minds."

"I thought as much, thank you dear sister of mine," said Jake as he left the room again.

That was close

After encountering two more bedrooms, the bathroom was, of course, the last door Jake checked.  And it was, of course, occupied.

Knock knock.

"Hello in there I need to use the shower."

"Keep your panties on, Ill be out in a minute," came a little boys voice from inside. A half a minute later he did appear, a small eleven or twelve year old with a wicked grin on his face Jake knew could mean no good.

"I left you a little present," he said as he ran away for the safety of his room. Jake didn’t feel any better when he heard the lock latching.

With trepidation Jake stepped inside, to a smell, which could have rivalled a chemical weapons plant.  The feces’ fumes were so prevalent to Jakes newly sensitive nose, that he would have vomited, had he had anything in his new stomach. Gasping and coughing Jake struggled to open the window and spent twenty seconds breathing in the relatively fresh, smog filled air.

Mental note. The brother must die.

Big Jake was not a prude.  He wasn’t always a priest, so he had seen the female form before.  But he was a priest, and washing the voluptuous curves of a young female body made him feel odd.  Particularly considering the recent scandals involving old priests and young kids.  Even if he was the young kid in question, he still felt as though he was one step removed from a child molester.  The shower took longer than he intended; both because he was unfamiliar with his new body, and it had been almost two years since he had a shower.  Sponge baths were all he was given; and he didn’t even have the consolation of two beautiful well-developed nurses to inflict it upon him.  Again, Jake wasn’t always a priest.

"Christy, thirty minutes and counting before we leave.  Get out of there," Jake’s new mother shouted.

Jake quickly finished, scrubbing his long hair and exited the shower.  He glanced around the bathroom, but was unable to find a towel.  After further examination there wasn’t one hanging up, or in any of the cupboards.  Smacking himself on the head, Jake remembered the closet he had first walked into and its shelves full of towels.  Why they were not in the bathroom where they were needed is a subject of conversation he fully intended to bring up at any family meetings.  In the meantime, he dried himself as best he could manage with the washcloth; but he was still dripping wet.  With no other option, Jake put his nightie back on; but his wet skin caused it to cling to prominent portions of his anatomy he would rather not have had displayed so…prominently.

Cracking open the door, Jake stuck his head out and glance glanced both ways down the hallway, looking for anyone else.  When he was certain the coast was clear, he stepped out and slinked toward the room he had awaken awakened in.  Just as he was about to get inside, another door in the hallway was opened and the aforementioned James exited, glanced at Jakes condition, and started laughing.

"Christy’s got boobies, Christy’s got boobies." He yelled, and then ran down the stair before he could be pursued.

Addendum to mental note #1: painfully.

After much trial and error, and several ‘oh here let me, what’s gotten into you’ Jake was made ready for church.  Jake was dressed in a pale dress that he was sure was far too conservative for his new age group; but since it was a dress, to Jake it was not conservative enough, by far.  Jake got into the stereotypical family minivan, and the whole family made their way to St. Mary’s catholic church.  Jake’s ‘Mom’ was an older version of his new self.  Not too tall, not too short, not too stacked, but hardly flat chested.  In other words near perfect.  Which didn’t make him feel any better toward what he could look forward to.  ‘Mom’ had called him Christiana Bishop, a very thinly veiled play on his former identity that Jake could have done with out.  And Jake’s ‘dad’ had called his mother Sarah, and she called him Andrew.  So being a reasonably aware fellow, he knew his parents were Sarah and Andrew Bishop, he had a very annoying little brother name James, and a sister so far unnamed.  And he himself was now herself a 14-year-old, nice little catholic girl. Thus ended the sum total of his knowledge of his new family.  He only hoped no personal questions would be forthcoming.

The service was only forty minuets long; and far to heavily dependent upon glitter than actual substance for his personal preference.  The priest was Father Burke an Irishman that Jake himself had personally recruited.  He had changed though in the twenty years since leaving Belfast. His Irish accent and manner now becoming indistinguishable from that of any other American, perhaps one too many complains from the parishioners about not being able to understand the Irish brogue, though this was surprising for Boston.  

After the mass, the Bishop family went out to Sunday breakfast at the IHOP.  Jake shocked his family by first ordering, and then consuming, three pancakes, three sausages, and three pieces of bacon.  It had been many years since he was allowed anything similar; and he consumed the meal like a starving man.  Several of his family were frightened.

Jake didn’t care.

It was sausage.

"Keep eating like that and we will have to buy a new wardrobe Christy," Sara chided her new daughter.

"Christy is too much a little girl’s name mom, could you please call me Chris," Jake pleaded.

"Oh all right then, Chris, why are you so famished?  Are you developing an eating disorder? You’re not anorexic are you?"

"Mom," said Jakes new sister. "Anorexia is when you don’t eat anything Christy is just being a fatty."

"Sally!" Andrew scolded her.

Well, at least Jake knew his new sisters name, now.

After another hour of nauseating family time, Jake was finally able to slip away back to his new room.  His new place of residence was not overly feminine but it was undeniable a girls room.  The soft sheets, and the prerequisite stuffed animals were disconcerting.  But Jake had lived through the trenches of World War One and  Two, so he figured he could hack the Satin Front, if necessary.  After changing clothes into a set of sweats, Jake took a moment to make sure no noisy little brothers were around, locked the door, and then, he shouted to high heaven, literally.

 

"Archangel Michael you will report down here in five seconds and explain yourself or I will spend the rest of my lengthened life finding a way to end yours."

FLASH!

"Many humans have threatened me my dear I don’t particularly care for it, most of them are dead now, and then I went to work on them.

"Explain yourself!" demanded Jake, completely ignoring the threat from Michael.

"Wow! Hold up for a second, m’dear . Even though no one can hear us when we talk, I would appreciate you keeping your voice down, and conversing in a civil tongue.  I don’t have the patience of an angel, you know."

"Why am I here? And like this Archangel?" Jake asked a little more courteously, but not much.

"Well, as you kept mumbling to yourself you volunteered."

"NOT FOR THIS!"

 "Again with the loud voice, Chri…darn!  But you aren’t exactly acting like a Bishop, Ms. Bishop."

"I did not ask to be changed into a little girl."

"No, but you volunteered to become an agent for the company.  A personal representative and champion of the Boss, to go wherever, and however, he may send you.  The only problem was, as I explained before, your soul was dying.  It was in no condition to go out and to combat the forces of the enemy.  You said it yourself, there’s not much you haven’t done, and your male form was too full of pain and memories for you to fully heal.  This solution, abhorrent as it is to you at this time, nicely solves both problems.

"Does it?  Periods, PMS, and pregnancy, were hardly the new experiences I was talking about."

"Well, you don’t have to go thru the last bit; though if you don’t risk it, your cutting yourself off from one of life’s little joys."

"I can’t believe there wasn’t some other way than this," pronounced Jake indicating his petite from.

"Well, there was one or two others, but there is also another, well, minor reason."

"And that is?"

 "The Boss and I, we go through the files of every potential agent.  He likes to keep his toes in the pool, so to speak.  And, we noticed a rather unpleasant trend for many of his male creations, going way the hell back to Adam.  I believe, it’s what is called in your century, testosterone poisoning.  To many of the knuckle dragging males think with the little head between their legs than the primary one above their shoulders; and they go and get themselves real dead, real quick.  Do you have any idea the paperwork we have to file to get them a new body or the bending over backwards we have to do for a prisoner exchange downstairs.  There were other problems with the male design, but unchecked aggression and stupidity were the primary faults.  Now the female is far from perfect herself.  Don’t even get me started on that one.  So, we decided to institute Plan B.  Actually it’s about plan Q, but for simplicities sake we will stick with B.  To make the better agent/spy/representative/negotiator/soldier for the Boss, we took the best parts of man and woman, and dumped them all together.  After a little while of seasoning in your new form, you’ll have all the skills and abilities, to function any and everywhere we send you. Agents need to be able to infiltrate a beauty pageant as well as an army barracks. You wouldn’t believe some of the business the competition does for Miss America.  Just think of the next few years as postgraduate work. The university of Womyn, XXU.

"Years?!" Jake asked abashed.

"Yep, no more than sixty, maybe seventy.  For some reason, women are able to learn the same stuff, much faster."

"Seventy YEARS!"

"Well you had over a hundred as a male. Don’t worry, I hear after the first decade, they all sort of blend together.  Of course we wont be leaving you all alone.  During your apprenticeship, we will have the occasional assignment for you, nothing too strenuous."

"What am I supposed to do for seventy years?"

"I imagine you’ll find something to occupy your time.  Do whatever you wanted to do the first go thru, but never were able to.  Find some guy, raise ten or twelve kids, live the American dream.

"I’m a priest."

"Nooooo…  You were, and as you have said, you weren’t always one.  Besides, I never understood why you people got it through your heads that your holy men had to be celibate.  The Boss designed you the way he did and he doesn’t like people criticising his work. You were built with mutually interlocking bodies for a reason.  He doesn’t even mind if two people of the same set of parts screw each other as long as they get their jollies off. If you track back from the beginning till now, every last whack job in history was off his rocker; because he, or she wasn’t getting any.  You have a life to live over again Christina.  You and I both know your former one wasn’t wasted; but you could have done so much more.  Here’s your chance.  You have a new family now. One who loves you…"

"But that’s another thing Archangel, I don’t love them. I don’t even know them.  And I think its incredibly wrong for you to make them love me. I thought God was supposed to be into free will and all that."

"Please Christina, He doesn’t like that word, it holds to many negative attachments.  And, for your information, we didn’t force them into anything.  You are their daughter and they do love you."

"How? A few hours ago, I was old enough to be my new parents great grandparent?"

"Christina Bishop was a casualty, caught in the crossfire about a year ago.  Her body was destroyed, and her soul was captured, and sent to a place neither of us wants to discus right now.  Needless to say this was devastating to your parents.  And also your sister Sally.  She blamed herself for your death, though, she could do nothing to prevent it.  She ran away, turned to drugs, and was forced into prostitution to fund that habit.  Your parents spent all the money they had left, hiring  investigators to find her; but she had disappeared into some pimps stable, and she also would have died in a few weeks, had not we put you back here in your predecessors place.  Your body is that of Christina Bishop, and your presence here, in addition to your training, also nicely sorts out four other human beings.  As far as they know you have always been their daughter.

"Why Michael, why are they so special?  Do you know how many parents and families I had to talk to in my work?  Explain to them that just because their child is dead, doesn’t mean God doesn’t love them, or that they did something wrong. They all prayed so hard for their child to be given back to them; but they all were refused. Why these?

"I would like to say, that they got a replacement for a daughter that should never have been taken from them, or that they prayed the hardest, or even that they were the most deserving.  But the real answer is, that you in this family serves the company’s best interests."

"Damned cold behaviour from a supposedly loving creator," Jake spat at him.

"We can’t save everyone," Michael said obviously saddened.

"You should try."

"I know," he admitted

Jake had served months in the trenches of France, rising to the rank of Captain before the armistice.  He had killed men, and become quite adept at it, so much so, that the hundreds of memories screaming in his head had caused him to turn to religion in a big way.  The seminary didn’t know what to make of the fast talking hard-hitting 25-year-old war veteran who graced their halls.  He was, what his country had called a war hero.  Alvin York may have gotten more medals, but Jacob Balus was a greater warrior, and ten times the soldier.  He had finished seminary and been ordained just in time for a furious Germany to elect an Austrian madman to the office of chancellor. Many of his new associates didn’t see what was coming, some secretly agreed with many of Hitler’s old-fashioned sentiments.  The Crusades had after all, began with the near genocide of Europe’s Jews while on the way to the Holy land.  But Big Jake could not stick his head in the sand at what was coming. He had many friends in France left over from the first great mass slaughter of humanity and the Catholics of France played host to an American priest. In the spring of 1940, he watched many of those new friends, beaten, killed, or simply carried away into the night.

Jake did what he could, always organizing, always planning.  But the fight had gone out of his blood, or so he hoped anyway. Too many baby faced German kids dead at the end of his rifle in the first, had made him unable to kill in the second.  Soon enough though, the Germans heard of the Yank at Montrichard Abbey, and had gone to investigate. They had found over fifty French Jews, running from the German concentration camps, hiding in the wine cellars of the medieval Church.

Of the ten Germans who had entered the abbey, more than enough they thought to deal with a lone priest, only two lived to return to their base.

 Father Jacob Balus’ thin veneer of civilization had been shattered; and this time he went along with his fleeing Jews, across the Spanish border, and onward to Britain.  Four years later, after having entered the chaplain corps and having gone through airborne training, at damn near forty years old, with boys half his age, Jake returned to La Belle France.  Jake had tried, by Lord God how he had tried, but, he was just so good at it.  And before the war was over, and he returned to the United States, he had sent another ten men to meet their creator.

And so it was, the former Bishop Major Jacob Christopher O’Malley Balus U.S.A. Holder of the Bronze star with cluster, two purple hearts and silver star, veteran of countless combat engagements ,a one hundred and one year old prince of the church, is now a 14 year old schoolgirl who entered a new field of combat, the high school.

Jake wasn’t worried, he thought he could handle it.

He was wrong.

Unlike in the two wars before last, he couldn’t shoot at these kids.

The day had started out all sorts of wrong.  He who shall not be named, had neglected to mention to Jake, that he was attending Savio Prep.  A Catholic Co-Ed college prep school in East Boston.  Jake could forgive the fact that he was going back to school.  He could even forgive that the Salesians of St. John Bosco, and not the Jesuits ran  this school unlike the school he had previously enjoyed.  What Big Jake could not stomach was the dress code, specifically the dress code for young woman.  SKIRTS!  And the  damned maroon blazer.  Jake looked like a bad casting reject off the "facts of life."  The fact that he wouldn’t have to unearth the secrets of female fashion decide on his own what to wear did little to make him happy.  The facts of life getup was far too skimpy for his tastes, the skirt actually stopped above his knees.  This was a Catholic school godamnit didn’t the Salesians know that!

The bra had given him pause this morning, just like it had yesterday, but after suitable callisthenics, he was able to secure his budding breasts in the white cotton contraption.  The panties, skirt, hose, blouse, and blazer followed shortly thereafter. Jake didn’t know a thing about makeup; but as he was now a nice catholic girl, he hoped he could get away with not wearing any.  The long hair seemed to take ages to dry after his shower; but after suitable , irradiation by a temperamental hot air blower, it was dry enough to brush.  Jake couldn’t identify the specific hairstyle he ended up with, assuming it was identifiable, but it looked neat enough in his estimation, and if it wasn’t good enough for other people, that was fine with him too.  Primitive mating rituals of the Catholis Girlus, subspecies Jake, was the furthest thing from his mind.

The Bishop family was firmly rooted in the middle class, and could afford two cars, though he knew from sister Sally’s constant screaming, not a third.  Jake was packed up with his older sister into the family minivan, and Sara drove them to the School, before heading to the legal office where she worked.  Andrew Bishop had already left an hour ago.  Mr. Bishop, as best Jake could ascertain from his one-day investigation, was a successful lawyer at one of Boston’s mid level firms.  Jake was happy his father was not a scumbag  litigator, as contract lawyers seldom had the opportunity to make good in a decent firm.  The two parents had met at one of the company’s mixers, and had worked together in their mutual carers ever since.  Sara Bishop, as she had to take six of the last twenty years at home bearing and raising children, had not advanced as far as her husband; although they were of equal talent.  Despite all the recent laws, it was one of the constant and unavoidable parts of being a working mom.  She seemed happy enough though, despite the hardships complicating her success as an attorney.

"Chris what’s wrong?," Sara asked her daughter. "You haven’t said a word all morning, not even about that culinary abortion your father left us for breakfast."

"You really shouldn’t let him cook" Jake said grimacing at the memory.

"I know, but he feels guilty about all the additional work I do around the house, in addition to all the work that is piled on me at the office, because I’m still an associate.  He wanted to help out; and leaving a nutritious breakfast warm in the oven, was his idea of lending a hand."

"Mother, I would call that thing, many things, but nutritious isn’t the adjective I would use."

"I can think of a couple of colourful ones myself; but I still want to be married to him tomorrow.  Men’s egos can be so easily bruised when it comes to taking care of their families."

"Do you really have anything to worry about mother?  You’re a family lawyer, surely you would get the better end of the divorce."

"Probably, but there are still certain advantages of staying on your father’s good side.  A wad of cold cash is not as comfortable, nor as warm as your father on a cold night."

"Mother I did not need to here that."

 "Oh god," Sara exasperated. "My daughter is such a prude, you always talked about having children but you haven’t so much as gone on a date yet. How exactly do you plan on getting one without the other, Virgin Birth?"

"Well… there are precedents," said Jake, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face.

The school day wasn’t going well for the former Bishop.  Mathematics had changed significantly for him since his last math class, which happened to be in the first quarter of the last century.  Jake supposed the former Christy had been able to follow the algebra, but he wasn’t.  Jake could look forward to many years spent at the desk ahead of him.  The situation was not improved any by the succession of Biology, Choir, and honours English.  Jake was completely fluent in French, German, and Latin; and had a working knowledge of Chinese, Japanese, and Russian. These should have nicely covered him in the languages; but of course, Savio Prep was one of the last schools in the western world that taught Greek; and Jake had refused to learn it in his past life, on general principles.  And of course, Christina Bishop was registered in Greek.  Even theology gave him trouble, as the Salesian teaching it was an ignorant, arrogant, sot, An adjective which had, of course, never been applied to Bishop Balus’s theology.  Most aggravating however was world History.  Jake had lived through, and taken part in, many of the events,  being presented, and didn’t care for the instructor’s lesson plan, one little bit. 

  Jake was tempted to tell the guy off and show him how wrong he was, no matter what the consequences were for his new academic career, when a girl in the back row beat him to the punch.

"Excuse me Mr. Lynch," said the girl raising her hand.

"Yes Ms. Granger." The teacher replied.

"You said the Axis powers were Germany Italy France and Japan.

"Yes?"

"But what about the lesser allies of Germany."

"Such as."

"Finland for one Hungary for another, and Romania. They all fought the Russians on Hitler’s side."

"They were not important in the scheme of things, not one of the major axis powers." he tried to end with a dismissal.

"Then why include France as part of the Axis."

"Well, they were quick to jump on Hitler’s side.  The Vichy aided Hitler’s war machine, even supplying troops against the allies."

"But far less than Finland, or even Hungary; and France was invaded and had a significant resistance movement both inside and outside France."

"I included them because they were French, they sided with whoever was wining at the time and quickly jumped again when Germany started losing. They are traitors and turncoats, then and now.

"If the French were traitors to the allies, then why were they included in the peace process, and even made permanent members of the UN Security council along side the other Major allied powers."

"Because FDR was duped."

"If I remember correctly, Truman was President at the time."

"Samantha, you are starting to smart off again"

"Smart off?  I hadn’t heard of that expression"

"Arrogant and patronising. How is that, Ms. Granger?."

"Those terms I have heard before, though not from you.  First a three, then a four syllable word, Mr Lynch.  Oh my, do you need ice for your head?" she mocked.

"Out!  To the dean of students office, at once."

"Gladly, as it gets me out of here."

‘My Heroine’, Jake thought to himself.

 

World history was the last class of the day; and as Jake didn’t know what he was supposed to do to get home, he staked out the main entrance, hoping his new sister would come out, and he could follower her lead.  While waiting, Jake saw Samantha Granger exit the building, stuffing an official looking white form in her backpack, and trying to put on a brave face.

"What happened," Jake asked her

"Suspension, one day, for disrupting class" Samantha replied.

"Well it was a noble cause," Jake replied trying to make her feel better.

"Well, I’m glad someone agrees," Sam said, as she sat next to Jake. "My mom wont, that’s for sure."

"I can give her a call if you like, explain to her what I saw."

"You would do that," Sam asked clearly confused.

"Sure why not, that asshole Lynch deserved it. He lets his own bigotries and stereotypes get in the way of his objectivity, a thing no historian should ever do. Though calling him a historian is an insult to the word."

"Its just…I didn’t think you liked me very much."

"Well, I have been going through some changes recently both physically and mentally. And I have come to realise, a lot of the things I believed recently are not true, I am willing to give everyone else a second look."

"What happened, a near death experience?"

"Something like that, never quite got all the way to dead but very, very close."

"Yes that happened to me once a snowstorm last year, near hypothermia I almost lost some toes."

"I’m sorry,"

"It’s not your fault, besides its was good for me, what about you,"

"I almost died of old age."

"Ha! Well, all the girls do call you an old woman, stuck up bitch is the kindest most of them call you."

"Well, I will have to give my fellow bitches a nice talking to wont I."

"reeer! I don’t like them much either I can make out a list for you"

"Please do..

Honk!

Honk!

"That’s my mom," said Sam glancing at a  Lexus with tinted windows, as she picked up her bag.

"Everything going to be all right?" Jake asked concerned.

"She can’t ground me forever.

"No but she can make a good start at it."

"Talk to you later."

"You too."

Jake waited almost an hour before his sister came out of the building; he was quickly admonished for waiting so long.  And asked why he hadn’t simply walked home, like usual.  Since Jake didn’t know the way to his new home, and needed Sally to lead him, the best answer he could come up with, was he wanted to enjoy her company.

Which was really lame.

His sister gave him a weird look and then started off down the sidewalk.

"Ah the shame, walking home with my kid sister like I was still fourteen myself," Sally vented in Jake’s direction.

"Well, you could always get a job, and buy a car of your own."

"I shouldn’t have to. Mom and dad make more than enough to get me a small car, they are just doing it to spite me.  I bet the minute you and James turn sixteen, they hand you the keys to a brand new car."

"I would take that bet; but again, you don’t have a job, nor any money."

"Your one to talk, at least I had a summer job, you haven’t worked a day in your life."

Why you little bit

 

After about fifteen minutes of walking through East Boston, Sally and Jake reached home.  He was sure he would be able to make his way back the next time.  One of the benefits of his time spent in uniforms, and "not working a day in his life."  Sally immediately ran up to her room and slammed the door.  Homework was not something that he was looking forward to, and television was something that never caught his interest, even when it was good.  Jake sat down and located the morning edition of the Boston Globe.  Even if he was a 14-year-old girl, reading the newspaper was still important to him.  Jake had not pulled a Huck Finn, and attended his own funeral, he was however, able to read his obituary.

Mental note number #2 anyone that calls me a stalwart defender of the Catholic Church is clearly an instrument of Satan.

RING

RING

"Hello" Jake answered the phone.

"Chris, It’s your father, your mom and I are going out to diner tonight. Jefferson won the Sorenson case, and the firm is about six figures richer.  We’re going to celebrate.  You think you can tell your sister she has to cook dinner for you three kids tonight?"

"I can do that, but it would probably save wear and tear on our stomach lining if I cook dinner instead."

"However you like Christy though I’ve never known you to volunteer for housework yet."

"I want a car in few years so I thought I should start brownie points early."

"A wise domestic policy, we’ll get home around 11:00 see you in the morning."

"Goodbye…dad" Jake answered after some hesitation."

"Goodbye sweetie."

 

Dinner was Italian, Jake was enough of a reactionary, politically incorrect, old man that he didn’t really care for the "Guidos", as he derogatorily referred to Italians; but they did know how to make good heart attack on a plate.  And, since he was now the proud owner of a new, much younger, and factory refurbished circulatory system, he felt safe in clogging it up right proper.  Of course the two other occupants of the dinner table were culinary illiterates, and wolfed down the spaghetti carbinara as if it were spaghettios.  Jake was ready to whack them upside their heads for their impudence; but instead, slinked away grinning and telling his new siblings they had to do the dishes.

 

They next morning proceeded more smoothly, now that Jake knew what to expect. He even avoided the disastrous breakfast, as Mr Bishop had not had the time in the morning, they were left with the finest products General Mills could offer out of a cardboard box.  Which, after years of an old man’s oatmeal, was nearly ambrosia. The school day preceded nicely, even through algebra.  Jake had found some time last night to cram some of the basics, and had found his keen mind had transferred over to his new form.  Indeed Jake was starting to get the idea, that the half-century or so of indentured girlitude wouldn’t be all that bad, when he encountered a new face in study hall.  Or rather the new face encountered his.

Jake saw a red-haired young girl, about his new age, with the classic Celtic features that had become so common in Boston over the years. She was walking down the row of seats that the separated the Study hall, when she saw Jake.  Her face lost much of its colour, and she screamed, LOUD!!  This brought the situation to everyone else’s attention.  The whole study hall was now looking in the girl’s direction; but she was completely ignoring them, and concentrating on Jake.  The former bishop could see the girl was trying to form words, but was having great difficulty at it.

"May I help you, " Jake asked kindly.

 "Dead…..its supposed to be dead." Was all she mumbled in return, inaudible to everyone else in the room.

"Excuse me," Jake said as he got up to help her.

The action apparently frightened the girl as she bolted immediately leaving behind one of the books she had dropped.

 

"What was up with Alyson," asked Sally as they both walked home later that day.

"Who,"

"The girl that freaked out in study hall. Alyson Reeves. People say she looked at you and screamed, now I usually would think that a normal reaction but not where the whole school could see it."

"I don’t know what happened. One minute I was studding my Greek; and then I heard some books drop, next thing I know, this girl is freaking out."

"Alyson has some major problems, she’s only a year older than you but she is already a senior.  As if that wasn’t killing her social life enough, there are rumours she messes with things she shouldn’t"

"What do you mean," Jake asked concerned. "Drugs?"

"That would be the simplest answer, but most people don’t think so.  Jeanne Wilson caught her in the bathroom, sitting in a pentagram, after band class one day. That little bitch is a witch."

"What a real one or Monty Python "a duck" type of witch."

"Monty what?"

Godamned kids, where is  their sense of culture?

"Is she a real witch, or is that just what people around school think?"

"It’s what people around school think, but there may be some truth to it. Last semester, when John Reed got attacked by the wild dog, she was twenty feet away from where it happened.  And last month, when Jack Barnes lost all control of his bowel movements for an entire week, she was in the same class.  Both coincidentally, had just refused her dates before the incidents occurred."

"Nice coincidence, but hardly enough for a jury."

"You’ll have to talk to mom and dad about that .  Speaking of which, it looks like your on dinner patrol again tonight, the two lovebirds are going out to dinner after work.  Personally, I think its just another excuse for them to get mom knocked up again; and ruin our prospects for a car."

"I did not need the visual Sally,"

"Hey, if I have to think about it, so do you.

Curiosity piqued, Jake spent the rest of the evening researching the school, and particularly Alyson Reeves, on his computer.  Sally had asked for a car, and the family  bought a computer, how’s that for being one of fortune’s playthings.  The computer research was tough going.  Jake was ninety when the personal computer became popular, but he had had the basics taught to him out of a sense of duty.  Alyson Reeves, on the surface, was a very gifted girl.  She had skipped grades three times, until she was 15 years old and about ready to graduate from high school.  Also, from the records, there was nothing in her life but school.  She had no extra, curricular activities, no athletics  nor any student organizations on record.  This was highly unusual, most students on the college track had to have something in addition to class work.  Leaving aside how mind numbingly boring life would be without them, colleges wanted well-rounded applicants.  Alyson didn’t have to worry about that however, she was already accepted to ten different universities.

Her extraordinary achievement was rendered mundane when looking at her background though.  Alyson had been orphaned as a young child, and had lived with her maternal aunt ever since, Ms. Tabitha Bellanamy.  The circumstances of her parents’ demise were shrouded in mystery; police investigators still included it in their unexplained case files.  One day they had been the stereotypical, all American family; and the next, the parents were gone, scorch marks all over the inside of the house was the only noticeable feature.  Shortly after that, their daughter had begun exhibit abnormal abilities and intelligence.  Now a paranoid mind, particularly one that had fairly reliable proof of the supernatural, would link the two together.  But Jake was willing to be generous; and say it was a coincidence.  What started to worry him; however, was the steadily growing pile of bodies that followed in Alyson’s wake.

Her aunts’ boyfriend had died of "heart failure", at the age of thirty-two.  Possible, but Jake knew, that in the end, all death could be described as heart failure.  Two teachers in grammar school had suffered mental breakdowns, perhaps a statistical aberration; but a common link between the two, was Alyson Reeves in their class.   Indeed, the schools Alyson had attended, and there had been many, showed an almost 200% increase in nastiness, in all forms, in comparison to other schools.  And that increase fell off significantly when Alyson left.  Most damning of all though, was the girls reaction to Jake, ‘Supposed to be dead’ was what she had said.  Some how, Alyson Reeves knew, the real Chris had died and been replaced.

Something’s rotten in the state of High school.

"Samantha?" Jake asked as he took lunch the next morning, tell me what you know about Alyson."

"What do you want to know about freakazoid for?" she asked, confused.

"I wanted to know if I had any competition for the school’s biggest bitch."

"Oh, no!  No contest, she definitely has you beat."

"How so?"

"Well, even though she’s only 15, she’s still developed enough to attract a boy’s notice, particularly the freshmen and sophomores, as they see dating her as an in for the senior prom.  But she hasn’t accepted once.  Totally frigid.  A walking freezer.

"But my sister told me she did something to a guy because he wouldn’t date her."

"That’s the story he told and the rest of the school believes but I was there for part of it. He was coming on pretty damn hard, and she pushed back."

""Pushed back by having a wild dog attack him?."

"Well duh! She’s a witch."

"Come on Sam, this isn’t Muffy the vampire slayer."

"Um, Chris, that’s ‘Buffy’" Samantha corrected her.

"Oh, sorry, I never really got into television when it came out."

"Right, well, I know this isn’t TV; but, you got to admit it is fairly suspicious."

"Then why hasn’t the administration done something about it?"

"These jokers? Come on Chris, they are afraid of their own shadows.  If isn’t raging fear of some lawsuit being filed against them, this is Boston after all; its fear that someday a student will come back with a sawed off shotgun, and blow their brains out.  They won’t do a damn thing; unless it happens right in their face, and not even then sometimes.  You remember Ian Sikes don’t you?"

"Um not really?"

"It was just a few months ago, he asked you out, remember?  That can’t be all that frequent an event for you.

"Oh Ian right,"

"Yea, well, three of the football players cornered him in the locker room after gym, and  beat the shit out of him, in full view of the coach, really brave, it took three of them.  When Ian tried defending himself, and busted one of the halfback’s knuckles, Ian was the one that was suspended for picking a fight with the football players!  This school sucks, I can hardly wait to get out of here."

"Yea, couldn’t agree with you more." Jake finished completely honestly.

Trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together, Jake decided to go to the source, Alyson herself.  Jake knew she was attending the study hall; and while sitting at his desk, he watched both entrances, waiting for her.  Savio Prep, perhaps because the Jesuits didn’t run it, was a bit looser than other Catholic high schools. They felt, perhaps with some justification, that learning could better be achieved through interaction, and not spending 50 minutes in total silence and boredom counting the bricks on the wall.  So the study hall was broken up in clusters of desks and couches, and small groups formed to discuss whatever it is they needed to discus.  Perhaps, because the young people were given a degree of trust, they mostly did not use this time for personal business, but for actual studying.  It should, perhaps, be noted, that students at this high school had one of the best academic records in the state.  When Jake saw Alyson enter the room and take a seat, he got up; and, with some trepidation, walked toward her.

"Hello Alyson," said Jake, startling the other girl.

"What do you want," she replied with distain after several seconds to gather her thoughts.

"I just wanted to say hello.  You seemed to jump off in a hurry after you saw me yesterday.  Is there something that I could help you with?  I would like to be your friend.  I can understand how difficult it must be fore you, being shoved at an age level you don’t belong."

"Can you? Well I might just believe that," replied Alyson voice dripping with disdain.  Follow me," she said, grabbing Jakes arms and dragging him away.

Jake was led into the girl’s toilet; he had been there before, in the past few days.  Kind of difficult to avoid, but always it had been a quick in and out.  No puns intended.  This was the first time though, Jake had gone in with anyone else.  The facilities were much cleaner than he was used to.  And he cringed at the metal container on the wall, which would be his fate for the foreseeable future.  Alyson checked under each of the ten stalls to make sure they were alone; and then rushed to barricade the bathroom door, adding to Jakes puzzlement.  When it was done, she rushed toward Jake and slapped him hard on the face.

SLAP!

"I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, Agent; but It wont work!  I know exactly what you are. You think, just because I was a friend with you former body, means your side can slip in a new soul, and get in my good graces.  I thought better of your Generals.  Its obvious they need to get out more.  I saw Christy Bishop die last year; and you are a poor replacement.  I’ll put good money on it, that you were a man before, is that right?"

"I -------"

"Of course that’s right.  What did they offer you, returned youth, new joys and experiences?  All you had to do, was do them a few favours?  You’re not going to like how it turns out, whoever you are.  But I suppose you already know that.  now listen here, your cover is blown, I don’t want to have to kill you, like I have so many others; because people here are already suspicious.  But, if you get in my way, I will send you to your master; and he wont be pleased.  Just keep to your treaty obligations, and I will keep to mine.  Here’s a little reminder of our talk so you wont forget.

Jake felt searing pain as Alyson put her hand on his shoulder.

"Ahh!" Jake screamed.

"Be seeing you around Bitch." Alyson spat out as she left

Jake look at his shoulder; and it was burned.  How the girl was able to manage it, particularly through an undamaged shirt, Jake didn’t know.  What he did know now, was that Alyson wasn’t friendly to his side, and she had power.

School didn’t used to be this tough.

Jake was almost getting used to the Blonde shoulder length hair, the small protrusions that kept itching on his chest, the gap between his legs, and the skirt which showed off to much legs, when an event brought back to his attention full force that he was now a girl.  A guy asked him for a date.

Jake didn’t know the boy, but from the descriptions he had heard, this was the aforementioned Ian Sikes, vicious attacker of first-string football players.  The kid, and he was clearly a kid, was about 15; and while tall, he was on the skinny side.  He had some muscle development, but nothing spectacular. His glasses rested on his nose, which could probably pick up television channels ,and his long brown hair hadn’t seen a barber in months.

Goddamned hippie.

"Chris?" he asked.

"Yes," Jake replied hesitantly still getting use to the name he now wore.

 "I know your shy, and so am I, so I’m just going to get this out of the way as quickly as possible, so we can both go back in our respective hobbit holes and continue to be hermits.  A bunch of the guys and girls are going to a movie and dinner at Pete’s Pizza place, Friday at six.  Would you like to come, uh not with me, uh, if you don’t want, we can just be in the same room together, um, but if you want to come with me, um, I can, take you out, I mean not take you out, as in the Sopranos take you out, I mean take you out as in dinner and a movie, I mean I will pay for it, even if you are just in the same room with me, even though that seems a bit odd, but hey were two odd people. I don’t mean your, I mean….

"Ian," Jake interrupted wanting it all to end.

"Yes Chris,"

"Pick me up at five,"

"Um, Um, I"

"Just stop babbling,"

"Of course I--, Yes Chris.  I will see you on Friday,  It will be great!  Um what movie would you like to see?

"What ever the group chooses would be fine, .  I haven’t seen a good one since John Ford died, so I’m willing to try anything once."

"John who?"

"Five a clock on Friday".

It took exactly five microseconds after Ian left down the hall, for Jake to realise what he had just done.  In a fit of spontaneity, partially due to the shock of meeting an actual, certifiable witch, and partially just to get the poor kid to stop rambling, Jake Balus had just agreed to go on a date.

What the hell was I thinking, I’m a Bishop.  For all that is holy, I can’t go on a date with another guy.  I can’t go on a date at all.

The constant, obsessive behaviour about the date was so powerful, and so constant, that just to get Jake to stop babbling, Michael the Archangel came down from heaven to shut the new girl up.  There were clear disadvantages to being a telepathic archangel, sometimes you didn’t want to hear stuff.

The Archangel flashed into existence in the middle of the hallway, amid about forty high school students.  None of the students were moving however, all of them appeared frozen in time. The pyrotechnic and temporal display was enough to get Jake out of his funk.

"Cute trick," Jake replied impressed. "Suddenly, much more of the bible makes sense now.

"You have no idea how handy it comes in.  Raining down sulphur is an endurance challenge, and I sometimes had to pause things, for a drink or two in-between."

"I assume no one else can see or hear us."

"Yep, now will you please stopping obsessing about boys for my sanity’s sake."

"I am not obsessing."

"Oh, really?  For the last five minutes straight, you have been thinking about nothing but him and your date, that’s what I call obsessing.  Hmm?  Acclimating quite fast to being a teenage girl, aren’t you Bishop Balus.?

"I was obsessing about how to get out of the date; and kicking myself over stupidly accepting.  And, if you call me a teenage girl one more time, I will rip off your wings and stick em where the sun don’t shine!"

"Again with the threats against angelic beings, if I didn’t know this was your former personality, I would accuse you of PMS."

"What exactly happens to Archangels when they die?"

"Don’t know, hasn’t happened yet."

"Care to try an experiment?"

"Well you’re a feisty little girl aren’t you?"

"I AM NOT A LITTLE GIRL!" shouted Jake as he stamped his foot on the floor.

"I am afraid you are."

"Change me back right now, I don’t care if I die."

"The boss would be very disappointed in you. We have a lot of time and energy invested in your training thus far and you have great potential once you’ve trained up a bit."

"Damn you! Damn Ian Sikes! And Damn GOD!" Jake shouted.

The Archangel Michael, the chosen champion of the Lord, rose to the defence of his master.  He took Jake over his knee and proceeded to spank him like the spoiled little girl he now was.

"Naughty girl" spank.

"Naughty, naughty girl" spank.

"One dos not use such behaviour in civilized company." Said Michael, with one last spank as he dropped Christina Bishop in a heap on the floor.

Chris proceeded to a good cry, not as a result of the spanking, which hadn’t really hurt that much; but because of the sudden realizations.  She was stuck as a girl now.  She wasn’t really lashing out at Michael or her creator, just venting the frustration that came with the realization.  Chris didn’t know how long she cried, particularly since time had no meaning at the present.  She cried in Michael arms, who was surprisingly comforting, for a general of the armies of heaven.  After some time, after all the tears had fallen from her cheeks, Chris looked into Michaels waiting eyes.

"Are you feeling better know Christina?"

"A bit yes, oddly enough," she replied.

"Its not odd. If its any comfort, you held on to your masculinity longer than most.  We do a little gender bending upstairs; and the changees always walk around in a denial for the first few days.  They can be perfectly logical and functional about every other part of their existence; but, refuse to acknowledge one of the most important parts of it.  In the end though, they all have their epiphany."

"How do most of them end up?"

"Well, it’s not exactly a controlled environment, if you understand what I’m saying, but most end up perfectly happy, functioning member of society. Spouse, kids, car, the whole bit."

"Kids? I never really thought about it Michael, but I can have kids now, can’t I?"

"Lets not rush into things too quickly Chris, your only 14 years, old despite the soul you carry."

"I know that!  I wasn’t even thinking about anything soon, good god, archangel.  I’m still shivering at the thought of going on a group date.  Its just, I never had kids as a priest and I always regretted it."

"We really need to send a memo down about that, it’s just a terrible waste.  But do you have any idea the trouble we have to go through."

"I’m scared Michael" Chris admitted to him and herself.

"What about? You lived through the trenches of WWI, through the German occupation of France, and the night drops over Normandy. What is it that can frighten you?"

"High school,"

"Really?"

"Really, Math class, History class, THEOLOGY!  Dating, elder sister, younger brother, lawyer parents, dating, witch in study hall, dating, SKIRTS, dating, using computers, dating, BLONDE HAIR, YOU FIEND!"

"What’s wrong with blonde?   Gentlemen prefers blondes"

"And you know exactly my own ideas on the subject; and you did it just to piss me off."

"True, but come on Chris, I’m an archangel they don’t even let us jerk off. We’ve got to get our jollies somehow.  You know the entire Mediterranean Sea was just a prank Gabe and I pulled one day. And what’s this you mentioned about a witch.

"You didn’t know?"

"No, good witch or bad?"

"There’s a difference?"

"Quite a substantial one, good witches are on our side bad witches aren’t"

"This bitch is definitely a wicked witch of the west type. You should see about dropping a house on her."

"That’s a touchy operation; and I would rather not at this time.  Tell me about her?"

"She saw me in class yesterday and freaked, said that I should be dead.  When I confronted her about it, she told me she knew I was a replacement for the real Chris; and she as much as admitted she worked for the other side. Told me to keep my treaty obligations, what the hell was she talking about?"

"We found out that much less torment and death occur if we normalised relations with the competition.  Were experiencing something of a cold war at the moment, which necessitates your presence as an agent on earth.  And this girl apparently as an agent on their side."

"What sort of treaty obligations"

"Basically, no full fledged assaults on the other side, no attacks upon territory or agents; but, many on possessions already held by the other side."

"Possessions?"

"Souls"

"Ironic"

"Quite,"

"We compete for the souls that are fair game; but you cant touch her, and she can’t touch you.  The side that starts anything receives severe repercussions."

"If we can’t attack the agents of evil directly, how does anything ever get done?" Chris asked, feeling exasperated.

"Slowly" said Michael forlornly. "What was this girls name?"

"Alyson Reeves, what am I going to do Mike, not just about her, about everything?"

"I’ll check all the lists; but you stay out of her way.  You’re not ready for any actual missions yet,   And as for all the rest, just live.  Live a long and happy life on this side of the gender equation.  In good time, you’ll wish you had this to live over again, after a few hundred years of action and intrigue."

"You don’t have to tell me twice, suddenly I am looking forward to being just a normal girl for a while."

"Be seeing you around old man," said Michael as he flashed away.

 The rest of the week went relatively smoothly for Chris, as she adjusted to her new role in life.  Agent of God was a future she didn’t have to think about for a long time, and while she had not forgotten her former life, she was happy to move on to the next.  And then came Friday, and the whole issue was nicely thrown back in her face.

    No training or experience could prepare her for the reality of going on her first date, and if her new friend Samantha had not been there, she likely would have begun a full retreat from the field of battle.  The two girls had immediately left school at three PM, and had just enough time to get ready before being picked up at five.  From time to time, the former Bishop took pause, to think about how much she had changed, physically and mentally; but, then something important got in the way, like makeup.  This was actually the first time that the new Chris had worn any, the school administration had a draconian policy, quite right in her opinion, of forbidding makeup, or excessive jewellery.  So, aside from the skirt and long hair, there really wasn’t anything undeniably feminine about her appearance for the past week.  But now, she was expected to go on a date.  While dinner and a movie was hardly a formal affair, certain things were still expected.  Boston in October was still warm enough for a skirt; and Chris allowed herself to be talked into one.  The problem came with deciding the type of skirt.  While Chris had made peace with the fact that she was a girl, she had decided that she wasn’t that kind of girl.  It took the combined military might of her mother, sister, and new friend, to convince her that just because she showed off her knees, didn’t really mean she was a whore.  Chris couldn’t really be blamed, back in the bad old days, 1916 for Gods sake! morals had been different.  Back then, a glimpse of stocking was simply shocking, but today, heaven knows, anything goes.

The skirt, blouse, make up, accessories, and hairstyle, particularly the blond hairstyle, made her into quite the pretty woman.  The two high school students had begun their preparations immediately after entering Chris’s room.  But when Ian, and Sam's date Tom, arrived they were kept waiting in the living room a half hour, repeatedly glancing at their watches.  Chris was able to sneak a glance downstairs and she could tell Ian was just about ready to bolt if she didn’t make an appearance soon to calm his nerves. 

It couldn’t really be called a date, not with ten other couples and a few stags in attendance.  Pete's Pizza had given an entire party room over to them for the gathering, and the two dozen high school students enjoyed each other’s company for over an hour and a half.  The topic of conversation was generally school, specifically, what they would like to do to Dean of students Pritchart, after they graduate and find her in a dark alley someplace.  The voting was evenly divided between, ‘run for your life’ and ‘give her a full frontal lobotomy’ with copious explosions coming a close third.

"Just how do you intend to firebomb her house Sam" Tom asked his date jokingly.

"Napalm," she replied deadpan.

"Napalm?" Tom asked curiously.

"Lots of napalm," she clarified.

"Catholic girls are scary," finished Tom Boone. 

All the guys had wanted to see "Hannibal" and all the girls wanted to see "Sweet Home Alabama." So, of course the group went off to see "Sweet Home Alabama."  After watching Reese Witherspoon make a disgrace of herself on the screen, Chris would much rather have seen a movie about the Carthaginian General.      After the comedy, the gang all walked to the local galleria nearby, which hosted an arcade, among other things.  Fourteen-year-old boys were still fourteen-year-old boys, when it came right down to it, and they couldn’t be expected to go this long without blood and guts.  Besides, being freshmen, and being dependent upon their moms to give them rides, kind of put a crimp in any other ideas fourteen-year-old boys might have had.  It was extremely difficult to neck, in the back of a car, with their mom in the front seat.  That sort of thing would have to wait until they turned 16.  The girls were content to have the males buy them coffee, and leave them in peace to talk behind their backs.  Chris was actually having a good time.  It had been almost a geologic age since she had been out on the town like this.  Even then, it had either been in the uniform of the church, or the United States Army.  One effectively discourages social interaction, while the other had an entirely different effect upon people.  This was the first time, in a long time, that Chris was able to simply go out and live with people, and she was enjoying it.  Ian was like an attentive puppy dog, returning every few minutes to ask Chris if she was all right, or if she needed anything else.  Ian also would not take no as an answer.  There were now two steadily cooling drinks on the table in addition to the one she was drinking at the time.  While Chris had no intention of taking advantage of this boy, or any other for that matter, she was starting to like the idea of being waited on hand and foot.  After all, wasn’t she worth it.

Soon enough it was time to return home, and after Ian’s father picked the two up, he dropped the two off at Chris’s porch, and then drove off, obviously thinking that his son could make it home safely, five houses down.  While it wasn’t technically true, Chris supposed, she was now the girl next door.  Left alone on the porch at 10:59, mere seconds ahead of the curfew, the two teenagers looked at each other, embarrassed, neither aware of what proper protocol was next.  Eventually, after much trepidation, and many pleading looks, Chris closed her eyes and raised her head, permitting her date a goodnight kiss on the cheek, but not the mouth, as was only proper.  Ian didn’t need a second invitation, and he applied said kiss forthwith. Immediately however he jumped back in pain.

"Ahh!" he shouted .

"What?" Chris asked concerned.

"Nothing, its just, nothing, I though I felt a burning sensation when I kissed you." Ian said uncertain.

"Probably just one of the hot peppers from the pizza got loose, you buried your slices in that stuff."

"Yea probably," finished Ian still hesitant. 

"I had a good time tonight Ian, perhaps we could try this again without the assembled student body." Chris said smiling.

"Yea, I think I would like that, I mean I know I would like that, I mean.."

"I think I know what you mean, we’ll do burgers next time to avoid the peppers just so long as you don’t have any of the special sauce."

"Yea, well, I guess I’ll see ya later."

"Call me if you like"

"Thanks I will."

After shutting the door and climbing the stairs to her room, Chris sat down on her bed to think about what she had just felt.  She knew it wasn’t some hot pepper that had just fallen loose from his teeth.  She had felt the burning sensation too.

It was just like what she had felt, when Alyson grabbed her shoulder.

Which meant one of two things, either she herself had done it, exhibiting previously unknown powers in a moment of anxiety.  Or Ian was one of them.

For the rest of the weekend Chris toyed with her discovery.  She tried every conceivable way she could think of, to reproduce the burning effect, even going so far, as to willingly subject herself to two hours straight of her brothers presence, waiting to see if he burst into flames, but he never did.  She tried every hack, clichéd action in her repertoire; but nothing worked.  In the end she was forced to bite the bullet and asked for assistance.

"Michael, Archangel sir, General Mike, hey asshole get down here." Chris finally shouted, aggravated.

"You rang," replied Michael after he flashed into the room.

"You know what I have been doing all weekend?" Chris asked him.

"Providing me and the rest of the crew a few good laughs.   I am happy to announce that I won the bet, most of the rest thought you would call for an explanation sometime after the apocalypse. Christina."  Michael said shaking his head scolding. "All you had to do was ask."

"Well excuse the hell out of me, I’m not used to asking for help, and this was a bit frightening."

"The kissing part, or the near third degree burns on his smacker."

"BOTH!"

"Yes well the important one first. No, he is not an agent for our side or any other.  We can see him clearly on all our scopes"

"What do you mean?"

"Most agents for the other side, pickup some magic or another, that keeps them cloaked and off of heaven’s radars.  We do the same ourselves to keep them from seeing you.  That’s why it takes so long, and so much effort to gather useful intelligence.  We can only witness such things, through agents like yourself, from a relatively close distance."

"You mean everyone up in heaven was watching me, and is always watching."

"Well not all the time, but this is a fairly important time in your development.  So, I have been keeping one eye on you.  And not everyone in heaven is watching either, I am your case officer, and only I have total access to you.  We like to keep things compartmentalised, that way if the other side breaks one cell, the whole network doesn’t go up.  The other Archangels don’t know about you, unless I let them in for a "consultation"; and equally, I don’t know about their’s."

"Tell me about the painful burning sensation, without smirking or thinly veiled references to STD’s if you please."

"Well", Michael started clearly chagrined. "Your new body comes fully loaded .  I was going to tell you about all the extras in good time, when you were ready for it, but I guess you’re an early bloomer."

"I think I detected a smirk,"

"Hey I’m only angelic here, I’m not perfect.  Anyway you have certain powers, we don’t expect our people, even junior trainees such as yourself, to go out in the big bad world unprotected.  The energy you let slip through your skin in anxiety, is a defence measure, and a fairly effective one."

"It’s also a fairly effective offensive weapon.  Alyson used the same thing on me."

"It’s fairly mundane as far as our line of works go, and both sides utilize it."

"When will I be taught how?"

"I’ll arrange for a sensei as soon as possible. We will have to juggle the schedule around a bit.  We weren’t expecting this for a few years yet.  In the meantime, I can have a cherub drop off some textbooks for your study.  Most of it can be self taught, with a live instructor for the finer points."

"More school work huh, you really know how to show a girl a good time."

"All part of the service Ma’am.  In the meantime I did some checking on Alyson Reeves, She is definitely a player.  The shrouding around her is some of the most extensive I have ever seen.  Definitely a product of the upper echelon, my guess is she is the competitions equivalent of someone like you."

"Alyson was once a male?"

"It’s a distinct possibility.  Most of the best succubi are former men.  They know exactly what turned their former forms on."

"But why send her back to high school?"

"Well, you’d be surprised how many old men have a school girl fetish, and she might have other reasons for being at that high school.  Our organisation is much like any other business; ‘get ‘em while they’re young.’ The competition is as much aware of that as we.  If she can turn some souls to the dark side now; its ten times more difficult for us to turn em back later."

"Michael tell me something."

"Yes?"

"Are we winning, our side I mean?"

"Well, we’re not losing." Michael replied carefully.

"That’s not the answer I was looking for."

"I know, but don’t you go thinking you can go off like John Wayne; and win the whole war for us single handily.  You have a lot of years left before you even become a low-level player.  You follow my orders. Understood? Stay away from that girl.  We’re sending in a specialist to deal with her."

"I thought you said we couldn’t go after other agents, it was against the treaty."

"Other registered agents, like you. She’s not on any of my lists, that makes her an illegal, and fair game. They were trying to pull a fast one on us, and her reference for you to follow the treaty obligations was a scam to make you think she was kosher.  A cleaner should be at your school in a few days.  I want you to wear this medal around your neck, the Silver Star it isn’t, but it identifies who you are, and who you work for.  If you bump into the cleaner show him that," said Michael as he handed her the golden chain with a small medal on the end."

"It’s an eagle," Chris commented when she looked at the bust.

"I thought I would give you some moral support, remind you of the old 101."

"How will I know its him?" Chris asked concerned.

"He'll be the big strapping hero type who pops in one day as a substitute P.E. teacher.  In the meantime keep your head down soldier."

"Yes sir."  

After Mass on Sunday, and the traditional Sunday meal at IHOP, Chris had now spent a week as a girl.  It was a bit frightening to her, to realise how far she had come, since she was the cowering wreck that couldn’t even put on a dress.  Even her little brother wasn’t giving her as much trouble anymore, and she was actually starting to like the kid, annoying as he was.  James had grown increasingly respectful after Chris had tied him to his bed while he was sleeping and then given him a long lecture on the respect due big sisters.  She promised to keep him that way unless he shaped up.  Jacob Balus had used a similar trick half a century earlier, to lay down the law for a young hulking private from Iowa, who thought he was king of creation, simply because he was big.  Jake had been there strictly in a spiritual capacity, and had nothing whatsoever to do with the guy ending up painted pink.  The difference between now and then was, Major Balus’ blanket party had used nylon jump rope, but Chris was fresh out, so she used several of her old training bras that no longer fit her B cup breasts.  Some things, Chris supposed with a wry grin, really had changed in addition to her plumbing.

After breakfast, the day progressed smoothly. Chris watched the first leaves of autumn, and spent the day studying both the actual schoolwork, and the material brought over by the cherub.  With all the textbooks stacked it would cover half her room’s wall, but they could somehow, all be located inside a small nondescript duffel bag.  Whenever she wanted a book, all she had to do was think of the title on the list she had been given, reach inside, and when she pulled out, the book was in her hand.  Someday Michael would have to explain this one to her; but after some of the acts of the Old Testament, a micro library was a very minor miracle.  Indeed, everything was picturesquely perfect, when things all went to shit.

"Chris," said a worried Sara Bishop, as she stepped into her daughter’s room.

"Yes mom?," asked Chris, who was finding it much easier to consider her such, despite the difference in age.

"I just got some bad news from the Sikes,"

"Yes mom," asked Chris alarmed.

"There’s been an accident, Ian--, he’s -- I’m so sorry Christy, he’s dead."

"Williams!  Cover!" the sergeant shouted at one of his green platoon members, as the unit dug in as best it could.  The German Army had surprised them all, again.  A winter attack, from an army that was supposed to have been finished.  The allies were only a few miles from the German border, and the Nazis had counter attacked.  The Arden was a shooting gallery, and the 101 were the sitting ducks. Cut off from supply, from air support, or reinforcement, despite the commanding general’s eloquent "Nuts!" to a call for the American surrender, it was seriously being contemplated.  It was a busy time to be a priest.

"GODAMNIT PADRE! No offence but you keeps your ass down too!"

"Lieutenant Powell dead, Goldman dead, Sorly dead, Johnson and Alderman wounded, and not a damn medic in sight.  You expect me Top to just sit around and watch them go to God?" Jake shouted back harshly.

"I expect you to have some common sense. The  krauts got sharpshooters, and they…Ahh!" he grunted.

"Sarge’s been hit."

"Here they come!"

"We gotta get out of here."

"Where the hell is the Armour."

"Fuck this fucking War, begin retreat."

"No!" Jake shouted. "This position controls the line for a half a mile in each direction we fold and half the division buys it.

"Those aren’t American tanks out there sir, those are German 88’s and they are coming this way."

"Hold!"

"I’m not following orders from you, you’re just a fucking priest."

"I’m a fucking priest with an oak leaf, and you’ll follow my orders corporal man your position."

"I don’t care anymore, what are you going to do excommunicate me, rather that than meet God any time soon."

"As if he'd have you!  Malachi get back."

"Germans! Hundreds of them!"

"Fuck this, all right boys follow me…..."

Malachi fell to the ground grasping his chest wound.

"You…shot…but your just a priest, you ca…can’t do that…your supposed to be a priest…

"Any man that runs from the enemy will be executed for cowardice now man YOUR POSITIONS!"         

 

Officially, Ian died of a lightning bolt while out for a morning run, one of those freak accidents that occurs unexpectedly, an act of God.  Chris knew different, she knew who was responsible.  Chris would have liked to admit that she was seeking vengeance for a murdered lover; but she had hardly known the boy.  He was an innocent killed out of petty vindictiveness, and whose soul was very likely ensnared simply because he was near her.  Christina Bishop nee Jacob Balus went after Alyson not out of vengeance but out of guilt.  She had killed the boy just a surely as if she had thrown the bolt her self.  The guilt consumed her, and it was not a new experience.

 How many is it now Old man, Chris thought to herself.

42 that you know about for sure, dead at your hands personally, twelve of them knife work, close enough to see the life drain from their eyes.  At least a couple thousand killed at your orders, in one war or another.   And how many dead under your command? Come on old man, you know the number, kept it religiously over the years.  How many souls were sent to heaven under your responsibility?

I wasn’t responsible, I tried saving them, It’s not my fault.

You’re the guy in charge, its always your fault, come on how many?

One hundred forty seven, in one war or another.

All that blood on your hands, and you called yourself a priest.

I could tell you every last one of their names if you like.

And Ian Sikes is the next name on the list, and he wont be the last.

What would you have me do? Run away? Join a convent? Hope the nastiness just goes away?

You’ve been running away all your life, you ran toward God after the first war, what did that get you?

The fight is just, righteous, and necessary, like it has always been.

Sure, sure, tell that to Mr and Mrs Sikes.

Chris spent the next few days emotionally paralysed.  She was perfectly functional.  Whenever human contact was necessary she manufactured feelings but she could not summon up serious sentiments beyond apathy.  She went to school, did both her homeworks, not out of any real drive; but rather out of a sense of duty.  Like so much of her previous life had been. 

One, long, accountability.

And she also watched Alyson, both inside school and outside, trying to get a read on her adversary, despite the recommendations to the contrary from Michael.  It was something that only other humans would understand. The girl was forced to keep up appearances.  It seemed even minions of Satan couldn’t get a car before 16.  So it was a simple enough procedure for Chris to follow her.  Decades old training returning like it had never left, Chris made sure she wasn’t seen.

Alyson hadn’t done anything peculiar to draw attention to herself.  She hadn’t had any clandestine meeting in underground cark parks or late night romps through the city.  She hadn’t purchased any wicked supplies or instruments of torture.  Hadn’t done anything really, to make her appear anything but a normal 15-year-old girl. Which to Chris' mind, was suspicious as hell, she hadn’t been anything of the sort before Ian's death.  And if she was acting this way now, it was only because she didn’t want anyone looking too closely at someone, that was already considered the school freak.

When faced with such a clear enemy, Jake Balus would likely have gone right in and killed her, commandments be damned.  But Chris Bishop, while still possessing the same temperament was fully aware of her current situation.  The Witch, succubus, or what ever the hell she was, was far more powerful than she.  Chris had only managed a few weak bursts of power, and barely scratched the surface of the introductory book, let alone the whole library. After many tedious hours of practicing, she could warm up tea a bit, but that was it for all intents and purposes.  Not exactly ready to combat a bitch witch from the back of beyond.  Chris contented herself with keeping an eye on the creature, and not making any more friends as convenient targets.  Sam though, was already her friend, and the damage was done, the 14year old spirited girl was one of the main reasons Chris was able to stay sane.

The two girls were entering the locker room preparing for gym class when they both saw Alyson.  Chris hadn’t told Sam everything, but enough that she suspected most of the stories were true, and to stay away from the senior.  Alyson’s class had just ended, and it was time for the freshmen now.  Chris and Sam immediately went to the far side of the room to change, and were not fully comfortable until the girl passed by and out the door.  She somehow accomplished both a smirk and a glare at the same time.

"What was she smiling about," asked Sam concerned.

"I don’t know, and I don’t like not knowing." Chris replied harshly.

"Chris I’m scared of her."

"You should be, but don’t worry, I hear she may not be with us for long."

"Is she transferring out?"

"Something likes that." Chris replied with a smile.

"Well it will be nice to be free of her, though it’s hard to think of a place where she could go," said Sam as she began undressing, including her undergarments to put on a sports bra.

"Why are you blushing so red," Sam asked her. "Its not anything you haven’t seen a thousand times before, we've been in gym glasses together since the fifth grade."

"Yes, well you weren’t quite so developed in the fifth grade."

"Oh Chris! You don’t have to be so embarrassed, your only 14, you’ll develop some more."

"Thanks Sam, that’s exactly what I needed to hear," said Chris with a false politeness.

The twice-weekly gym class was different today. The usual instructor of girls gym, Cleo Mahler, was absent.  In her place was a gigantic two meter tall man who could have challenged mister universe and won.  Apparently this was the big strapping hero type Michael had told her about.

"This is a day for being frightened out of my panties, this guy looks like he could eat a jumbo jet for breakfast," whispered Sam.

"He looks harmless enough," contended Chris trying to reassure her friend.

"Good morning class," the man began in an indistinct foreign accent.  "My name is Mister Smith.  I will be your substitute gym teacher until Ms Mahler gets over her recent illness.  We will begin today with a short run.  Since it is raining outside I want you all to do twenty laps around the court.  Please begin…NOW LADIES!"

The assembled freshmen girls quickly followed his orders, though it was a stretch Mr Smith probably outweighed the entire assembled class just by himself. Whether it was fate, or merely bad planning on Sara Bishop’s part, she had not purchased a sports bra for her daughter. So the only support Chris had for her two protuberances was provided by Victoria Secret, which wasn’t providing it very well at all. After two laps around the basketball court Chris, along with a fair number of the rest of the girls, was about to mutiny.

I thought we were supposed to be on the same side, Chris thought to herself.

Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE!   I       

Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE!   Am

Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE!   Not

Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE!   Getting

Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE!   Paid

Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE!   Enough

Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE!   For this

Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE!   Shit!

"Mr. Smith are you OK?" asked one of the girls as she saw the teacher clutching his chest.

"I…Just need a, Ah, hit the…showers girls…class dismissed," finished Smith as he walked painfully out of the gym toward the boy’s locker room.

"Huh," said Sam as she ran up next to Chris, in her sports bra!

"I guess there must be some virus going around for gym teachers," commented Sam.

"Yea, guess so," replied Chris not at all convinced.  

 

"Mike!" yelled Chris after she dressed and got away from the other girls. "Archangel! get your butt down here."

FLASH!

"A little respect dear or I may have to get Old Testament on you," said Michael with a stern look at Chris.

"We really need to get a better system of communication worked out.  How am I supposed to contact you if it’s important?"

"Just like you did, call my name and I come a running, course you have to wait a bit even archangels need more than three seconds to extract themselves from what they were doing. And of course, if its not important, well Gabe and I came up with this…"

"This is important did you just see what happened in my Gym class."

"Sorry I was otherwise occupied, but I can back track a little let me see…shit."

"Yea," Chris agreed completely. "What happened to him?"

"He got sent upstairs the back way and has to explain himself to Pete, he has my sympathies."

"He’s dead?!"

"As a doornail, fairly mundane as our line of work goes, poison. I guess the competition didn’t want to go through the trouble of capturing his soul, just wanted him out of the game."

"Was he a registered agent?"

"Yes, but what do you want to bet the other side will completely deny this "rogue operation."

"That sounds like a suckers bet,"

"Oh it is," sighed Michael.

"You know Archangel, there are some times I wish we weren’t the good guys. How can we expect to win if the other side never plays by the rules?"

"We just have to be better than them, in more ways than one.  Now listen here, this girl is good,"

"Good?" Chris interrupted.

"You know what I mean, she’s got skills, whereas you can barely heat a cup of tea.  I don’t like ordering it but I want you to seriously consider leaving this school until a replacement can arrives."

"And what about all the rest of the students, they don’t know the danger, they are at her mercy.  She’s already killed two people that I know about and I’ve only been here a week!"

"And just what do you imagine you can accomplish, the only thing I can think of is cannon fodder, slowing her down a second or two that it takes her to take you out."

"If that’s the only service I can provide then so be it," stated Chris assuredly. "God will surely know his own."

"I will expedite the replacement, it should be done tonight."

"Why can’t you do it?  She’s like one hundred feet that way." said Chris waving her hand."

"Leaving aside, that Generals don’t get involved in this sort of thing, or that we really have no evidence that she’s guilty of anything."

"What do you mean?"

"We actually haven’t seen anything, oh I know" Michael said stopping her argument before it could get started. "She looks guilty as sin, but if we just go in and whack her without the proper proof we loose a hell of a lot at the negotiating tables, all puns intended.  But the big reason why I can’t do it is I’m not really here."

"You mean like most people who claim to talk to a messenger of God I’m really talking to myself."

"In a manner of speaking, your one of my cases, and we have a special link, it enables us to communicate over great distances; but even I can only multitask so much.  My presence has to be scattered to so many different tasks, that I only actually "exist" for special occasions.  You can see me, hear me, and I can manipulate things physically, but as for using my powers again, only for special occasions."

"This doesn’t qualify?"

"In the scheme of things no, the replacement will be there in a few hours. If I went in and did this thing, it would screw up a whole of a lot of operations right proper.  As is, just talking to you while trying to do everything else is more than I can really spare."

"Very well Michael you just make sure this newcomer lasts longer than the last."

"I shall do my best."

 

FLASH!

 

Chris couldn’t believe it, if there was any further evidence that Alyson was beyond redemption it was given in the cafeteria.  Chris picked a table on the far end; but one that still gave her a full vantage point of Alyson.  The witch was eating her meal like nothing had happened.  She was even smiling and laughing with some of the other students, who were totally oblivious to sitting at a table with a multi murderess.

"You bolted out of the locker room pretty quickly Chris," said Sam as she and her boyfriend Tom sat down at the table with her.

"Did you hear?" Asked Tom concerned. "The new guy is dead, heart attack first day on the job. Make you wonder how most of our teachers survived as long as they did."

"Yea I heard," replied Chris not taking her eyes off of Alyson.

"You don’t think, that she had anything to do with it?" asked Sam following Chris’s line of sight.

 "I think she had everything to do with it," she replied certain.

"But I…,

"Listen to me, Samantha I know you’ve done it before, so this shouldn’t present to much of a problem.  I want you to get your bag, and walk out into the parking lot like you’re an open lunch senior, and just keep going till you get home."

"Chris what’s going on?" asked a confused Sam.

"Just do it Sam! you too Tom, neither of you should be here for this."

"Be here for what?" asked Tom.

"I left my purse in my locker, I’ll be back in a few minutes," added Sam as she got up to leave.

"I’ll stay here, be careful Sam," said Tom not wanting to climb the three flights of stairs.

The only good point about they next few minutes, was that keeping her mind on Alyson, kept Chris from thinking about what the school deemed edible for human consumption.  Chris had heard a story, and from her days on funding committees she had no reason to doubt it, that a student had once come across the meat package used in the kitchen.  "Grade D: but edible".  It’s handy to have a republic administration every once and a while, just so they could slip a couple of million dollars into a religious school’s meal plan.  But the students didn’t seem to mind that much.  For a normal teenager, if it was hot, ample, but most importantly there, they would eat it. But to the former Bishop’s educated and refine palate, it was indigestible.  There were still some advantages in the 21st century to being a prince of the church.

Suddenly Alyson jerked her head up and looked straight at Chris' table a small flash in her eyes. Then quickly and unceremoniously she gathered up her things and left for the common area.  Chris got up to follow her.

"Where you going Honey," said Tom as he put his hand on Chris shoulder.

"I have to go Tom let go please," Chris asked as she reached for her bag.

"But we haven’t really talked, can’t we get to know one another." He said smiling.

"Maybe later Tom," said Chris, not at all amused.  A few minutes away from his girlfriend, and he was already putting the moves on another, and after a quick examination, Chris saw he had a little pup tent in his pants.

"You know the janitor keeps the closet next to the Math lab unlocked.  Even if he walks in on you, all you have to do is give him five bucks.  What do you say we test the laws of probability."

"Ah no thanks, "said Chris uncomfortable.

"Come on you know you want it, " added Tom tightening his grip.

"Let go," shouted Chris as she forced the boys hand from her shoulder and walked away, following Alyson.

Technically as a freshman, Chris wasn’t supposed to be in the halls during her lunch period.  So it was cautiously that she followed Alyson from the commons area and then up to second floor into the Library.  Despite her best attempts to remain hidden, the witch spotted Chris several times following her, and was more aggravated each time.

Good thought Chris to herself if she’s nervous and angry that means she’s not thinking straight, makes her sloppy.

"SEE!" shouted Tom, as he surprised Chris, and grabbed her from behind. "I knew you wanted some, you headed straight for the closet."

"To…" Chris tried to say but her mouth was covered, she couldn’t speak a word.

"Oh don’t worry, I know how much you want it.  I’ll even play your little games.  I was always kind of in to sadomasochism."

Tom manhandled Chris into the janitors closet and then quietly shut the doors. In-between classes no one was in the halls to see them.

"Stop..Ahh!" Chris tried to scream but was punched in the stomach for her impudence.

"See, I am a very considerate lover. I didn’t hit you in the face where it would ruin your good looks or your tits where it would ruin your pleasure.  What say you return the consideration," said Tom with a wicked grin as his eyes flashed much like Alyson’s did.

"Tom don’t do this your not like this."

"Yes I am, I’m like this very much, " he countered.

"Think back Tom to what you were like before, that bitch has done something to you."

"The only bitch I care about is the one before me. Take off your clothes."

"Tom, please," Chris began to cry.

"You want it," he said as he began to rip at her blouse.

"NO!" she screamed as he grabbed her breasts

"Yes," as he continued with a ripping sound.

"NO!!!!!" 

Chris wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, but one moment Tom was about to rape her, and the next he was gone.  As she gasped and opened her eyes, she could see the boy spread-eagled across the small room, several chemical containers knocked over.  He had severe burns over much of his body, but his clothes were curiously untouched.  Chris stumbled over to his body to check his condition, and a piece of her soul ripped away when she couldn’t find a pulse.  In shock, and struggling to get up and cover herself, Chris staggered out of the utility closet.            

So, how many is it now Old Man. Forty-three of God’s creations that you removed from his universe.  And one hundred and forty eight dead under your responsibility.  Of course we counted Tom Boone twice, but that’s not the first time its happened, is it?  Malachi wasn’t even the first time.

Shut up! Chris yelled in her head.

No I don’t think I will, told you Ian wouldn’t be the last.

Shut up.

My but your stacking up a nice stack of bodies aren’t you?  

No! It’s not my fault I didn’t mean too.

And you were doing so well lying to yourself all those year. Convincing yourself that the black vestments would hide all the blood at your hands. You’re not any better than what you fight.

No.  I’m good.

Are you now? A real hero you are, what about that German baby face at Arnhem.  You were captured with half a squad, the guard the Nazis left behind never suspected the old man with the cross on his lapel, until the quiet priest stuck a knife in his gut.

I had to.

Sure you did.

I’m the good guy.

Sure you are.

I’m the good guy.

It took him a really, really long time to die, didn’t It?

I’m…

He couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, but then Tom was only fifteen . So, I suppose it was improvement of sorts.    

For the rest of her life Chris never knew how she returned home.  Perhaps things were ingrained on the body, because when Chris became aware of herself again she was in the shower.  She had most of her clothes still on, and was being pummelled by the scalding water.  Even after the large water heater had been depleted and the scalding became freezing water, Chris still did not leave her shower.  Collapsed on the floor, she tried to have the water clean something from her that had couldn’t be cleaned by water, her soul.  In hindsight it must have been hours in that shower because it was her sister, home from school, that found her.

"Christy! Where have you been," Sally asked over worried. "The entire school has gone nuts, they found a sophomore’s body in a closet, and they cancelled the rest of today’s classes.  I looked everywhere for you.  What happened?"

"I…"

"Christy just stay here I’m going to get some towels. Try to get your wet clothes off."

But of course Chris couldn’t accomplish any more physical an action than crying.  The once brave and stubborn man had been reduced to nothing.

Soon enough Sara and Andrew Bishop arrived home from work, called by their elder daughters troubled message.  But even her new mother could not get Chris to form any coherent sentences.  In the end, the parents surmised something awful must have happened to her, and they simply held her tight, trying to comfort her in any way they could.  After stripping off the wet clothes, the freezing Chris was dried off unceremoniously by her family, and dressed in pyjamas, even though it was only Three PM.  Chris laid in her bed, wrapped up in her comforter, which wasn’t very comforting, and her blankets.  And she waited for oblivion to claim her.          

"Mr Bishop?" the policeman asked as Andrew opened the door.

"Yes,"

"Is your daughter at home?" the officer continued unemotionally.

"Which one?"

"Um, Christina 14 years of age, present freshmen and Savio Prep," he continued after checking his clipboard.

"Yes she is home right now, but I’m afraid she is not up to speaking to anyone," said Andrew defensibly.

"She is a possible material witness to a homicide."

 "What he means," Sarah Bishop chimed in as she got to the door. "By our daughter ‘not up to speaking to anyone’, he really meant to say Christy is near catatonic crying on her bed right now, and she wont even say a single word to us.  I wont have you in here making things worse."

"Yes well," the policeman tried continuing under the mothers glare. "That matches the reports we heard. Witnesses saw your daughter leaving school, um, quite dishevelled, but more importantly she was quite close to the victim.

"Who?" Andrew asked curiously."

"Thomas Boone, 15, sophomore.  He was found in a utility closet with third degree burns over much of his body.  That shouldn’t have killed him outright, the ER docs had to label the cause of death as heart failure."

"What do you want with Christina?," Sara Bishop asked harshly, "We’re both lawyers with Williams, Horner, Goldsmith and Elfman.  So don’t bullshit us, were not your typical parental pushovers."

"Ma’am, sir, I just want to question her, I’m not here to arrest anyone, your daughter doesn’t have any sort of record, and no motive that I can ascertain.  But it’s fairly obvious, to you to ma’am, that she saw something.  And, well there is this matter of Ian Sikes, he was found dead of remarkably similar wounds.  A common connection between the two boys is your daughter."

"You think she killed them?" Sara asked angrily.

"Ma’am, I don’t know what to think, I keep expecting to see Rod Sterling pop up any minute now, with cheesy music. This isn’t the sort of thing we deal with on a regular basis.  It almost makes me wish for something simple, like a gang war.  If you say she isn’t fit to be questioned right now, I will have to accept that.  But please take my card," said the police officer, handing it over to Mr. Bishop.

"Lt. Dan Stewart," he continued.  "If I haven’t received a call by tomorrow night, I’m afraid I will have to come back, And with all the proper paperwork.   I’m sure you don’t want that on your daughters record."

"Get out," Sara glared at him.

"I’m sorry but..."

"She told you to get out Lt." Andrew announced. "I suggest you go now."

"Very well, but I will be back, and believe it or not, I am very sorry."

"Timmy!  This is a place of god, I would have thought the sisters would have spanked that into you by now," said Jake shaking his head.

"Yes father, but there is a big king outside," the excited boy continued.

"A king huh?"

"Yea he’s fat and dressed in black and red and he has a sceptre."

"Oh, one of those, well you go up to his majesty and tell him I’ll be in my office."

"You want me..."

"There’s a nickel in it for ya."

"Yes FATHER!" the boy shouted as he ran downstairs.

"You’re really letting the new job go to your head Max, this is 1949 your supposed to be dressed a little more mundane," said Jake as the Cardinal entered his church office.

"I just came from a rather interesting meeting with some of our church members on the Morgan and first Boston boards.  I put on the monkey suit to impress them."

"How much did we get out of them this time?"

"Not enough, which is why I’m here"

"I’m tapped out old friend.   I gave at the office."

"Funny,"

"Well I always did like a good pun, what can I do for you?"

"Have you been following the Jewish problem," the Cardinal asked as he sat down.

"Religiously."

"That’s quite enough!  A little bit more respect here."

"All right your eminence, yes I have.  Israel looks like it’s going to make it, .  I wouldn’t of put money on it last year though."

"Nor would I, which brings us to our main point.   Before and during the war, great sums of money were hidden away.   Many of those accounts, a great many in fact, both here, and in places like Switzerland haven’t been touched.   We are left with the supposition that the depositors are now dead."

"An occupational hazard for a Jew."

"Indeed, the subject came up that we could requisition the funds, that it would be better that they be used for good works, than  they languish and collect interest for the gnomes of Switzerland."

"Leaving aside that it’s not our money to requisition, how do you intend doing that?  The Swiss are rather tight about giving away other  people’s money."

"Documents could be provided, many documents in fact, perfectly valid even. Many refugees have come to the United States.  And of course, the Swiss would be less reluctant to release the funds to a high church official than any beggar off the street.  Or at least, that’s what our friends in the city tell us."

"And these friends in the city would be willing to provide those abundantly "valid" documents, wills and such, that stipulate we are the beneficiaries of these accounts, out of the goodness of  their hearts?"

"Well of course not, while the money is under our control, it must be held in their institutions."

"Gaining less than optimum interest, and a few dollars might slip through the cracks."

"Of course, such things are normal in these turbulent times."

"A nice plan,  except it disregards the root of the problem, it’s not our money.  Back in Iowa we called that stealing."

"In Boston we don’t use such words. Come off it, Jake.  You and I both know, the Swiss will never let a tenth of the Jews have their money back .  It’s just going to sit there for years, and make them rich.  Look at this place."  The cardinal gestured with a wave. "This church and school are falling apart; and it’s one of the best we have.  We’re talking about hundreds of millions of dollars."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Rome would never agree before the fact.  It is much easier to ask forgiveness than permission, not so?  I need someone local, but most of my people are not up for this.  You have a certain moral flexibility, when it comes to God’s work.  I remember a rather large account appearing on your ledger, the month &