The Morrigan looked down on her minion from her obsidian throne. She felt good; it had been too long since she replaced the body she used here in her stronghold. She’d swathed her new body in crimson silk, and rubies dangled from her ears, her neck, and her wrists. Intrigued, she hardened a plane of air until it reflected her image back to her. The little minion who stood at her feet was right. The body she wore now appeared beautiful and terrifying in these colors. None who saw her could possibly doubt that they looked upon a being of power.

Of course, any of her peers would see through the shroud immediately. She wore these trappings for minions and mortals. Still, mortals trusted appearances. She smiled down on Ricardo, gratified to see him preen with pride and tremble with terror both at once.

"I am pleased with your efforts, Lady mine. You have done well."

Preening overcame trembling, and the pixie waved his hands across her in an expansive gesture.

"My Dark Majesty, she is my masterpiece! She is beauty, she is grace, she is fashion incarnate!"

"Yes. And now, Ricardo, I need you to do something else for me."

The pixie struck a heroic pose, "The godparenting of the device of wires and silicon, yes! Ricardo, he is..."

"No."

It was always so amusing watching when her minions tried to take back what had been said. They did so much to avoid her wrath, not realizing that her wrath knew no logic, no coherence. It struck where it would, and she reveled in the striking, but she had never struck down a minion for such a trivial offense.

Well, perhaps once or twice, when she was looking for a reason to strike things down.

Now, however, she needed this minion for something she would be able to do only with great difficulty.

"As I have loaned it to you in the past, I again loan my power to you, my Lady in Waiting. There is much that must be done, and this part I leave to you."

"What part?"

An image of the Morrigan's daughter, Ophila, floated in the air. Enemies beset her from all sides, enemies the Morrigan could not easily envision. Faceless entities in suits rather than armor, wielding paper rather than swords. Each of them tore at the Muse of Madness, ripping her apart piece by piece.

Ricardo shuddered, his tiny frame shrinking further as he cowered from the images before him.

The Morrigan's voice echoed from the firmament of her realm, "Lady mine! When you were nothing but a pixie without title or Power you stood firm against a host of wild Fae led by a knight of the Seeleigh Sidhe! Now, armed with my power and shielded by your affection for my Champion, you will allow yourself to be vanquished without a fight?"

Though he stood straighter at the mention of his past valor, his hesitation had not completely disappeared, "But these miscreants, these malefactors, they are... they are..."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"They are what?"

The little Fae shuddered as he spat out the final word, "Lawyers."

***

Matt stood staring at the great glass pyramid. He'd been here every night since the fateful one Michaela confronted the thief. This robbery was the most extensive yet, with over sixty pieces stolen. Worst of all, he hadn't seen Michaela since that night.

Security was still half convinced that she'd been working with the thief. Only his strident insistence that the thief had kidnapped her left any doubt in their minds. Only one problem plagued him; there was no way an angel incarnate would let herself be captured.

After the shouting and accusations died down, museum security asked him to assist. Maybe they'd checked his bank accounts and realized he wasn't suddenly the richest American in France. Maybe they'd spoken with the authorities in Russia and Japan. Matt didn't care. He only cared about staying close to where he'd last seen his wife.

The new robbery fit right into the established pattern. Imperial museum, all art taken belonging to a single owner, this time named Amant, and other pieces left untouched. At this point, after three crimes, Matt almost thought himself ready to start profiling the thief, but even if he caught the thing he'd seen in the sky, it still might not bring Michaela back.

A gleam of light reflecting from the pyramid caught his eye. He looked, and there she stood, a glowing shadow etching the sky behind her. Overcome with relief, he called out.

"Michaela!"

"Frank!"

Without hesitation, she slid down one edge of the pyramid, the world's prettiest skater girl.

She even dressed the part, pads on her knees and elbows, a crash helmet on her head. Behind her a shadow trailed along, teasing at the edges of his vision. He stopped looking directly at it, and all at once he remembered where he'd seen it before. He shuddered in atavistic terror at the sight of Michaela's armor and the thought of what it would do if she stopped containing it. Then she launched herself from the pyramid, landed in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

"God, I've missed you, Michaela."

She looked up, confusion mixed with worry in her eyes. "How long have I been gone?"

"About a month, sweetheart."

"Oh, shit. I knew I'd been searching for a while, but I didn't realize I'd lost track of time that badly."

Matt blanched at the thought that even using her angelic powers she'd been unable to catch the thief. "I guess we're not going to catch him, then."

"Not an option, Frank. The Boss clued me into the dragon's plans. He's trying to touch off Armageddon, and before he does, he plans to make himself angel proof."

Michaela was tense. Normally she was alert, toned, and even a bit eager, but Matt could feel the difference in her shoulders, see it in the wrinkles around her eyes. The idea that real honest to God angels wouldn't be able to stop someone troubled her as much as it did him.

"You mean he might be able to win a battle against heaven?"

Michaela looked away. "Well. No. But..." She never looked away.

"But what?"

"There might be collateral damage."

"Like what? A building? A country? A continent?"

"Time. Space. The universe itself."

For a moment, Matt couldn't believe what he was hearing. "How... What do you mean?"

"I have free will, Frank."

"Um... that means what?"

She gave him an exasperated look, one that softened almost immediately as she saw the sincere confusion in his eyes. "I might actually be the most powerful angel in the mortal realm right now. Without my sword and armor, I was a joke to him. I can play with space and time like taffy, and I was a joke."

"So, he could destroy it all?"

She smiled, but her eyes were filled with sadness. "No, love. But he could, just maybe, defeat the Host. If he did, He," Matt heard the capital in her voice, knew who she was referring to, "might have to take action. I can play with reality like taffy. Really stiff taffy, but still. For Him? It's like a soap bubble, Frank. It would be like swatting a dangerous hornet that was hiding in a Faberge egg. Drake would be so much dragon pate, but..."

"Yeah. I get it. So how do we stop him?"

"He isn't done collecting yet. If we can figure out what's left, if we can get there first, if we can get the jump on him and catch him with his defenses down..."

"That's a lot of ifs."

"Then we don't have any time to waste."