"Sin?" I asked. "As in fallen angel? Like Morningstar?"

"No," Michael shook his head. "Morningstar is different – an angel of darkness. He is night to my day. And, like the daylight, we wax and wane in our strength, but in the end there are never more of them then there are of us; it's an eternal balance."

Michael turned to look at me. Seemingly unaware of my stricken look and the cold, hard feeling in the pit of my stomache continued, I’ve been trying to do the right thing, the slow and hard way, yet I've probably botched the whole operation. Making a deal with him was stupid, but I needed an ace in the hole. We were trumped. It could have been the end of the whole thing. So, I used my one phone call, and I called him. I'm in danger of embracing darkness; I could lose my high place ..."

Michael looked out the window at the bright sunlight. "But to truly fall is to die. To never return to the other place."

"Other place?" I asked, then shook my head. I didn't want to hear him say it. He looked as though he would answer me anyway, so I quickly added, "What makes you fall?"

"I don't know; God decides."

"God ... uh-huh." I ran my hands through my hair. With the simple gesture, I tried to ground myself. The belfry seemed too airy all of a sudden. I felt too exposed under its vaulted ceiling. The coldness in my stomach crept outward toward my limbs. "Michael ... what you're saying ... what you imply ..." I stopped, then restarted, "I mean, what about us?"

"Oh." Michael shook his head, as if to get back on track. "The whole thing about women needing to cover their heads in church so as not to tempt us – that's totally a myth. It's the abuse of power that corrupts, not flesh itself."

It finally broke. A wave crashed over the shoal of my reality.

"Thanks for the clarification," I said suddenly, with more sarcasm than I intended. "Look, I've got to go. Take a walk or something; clear my head. I've got to figure out what to do about Daniel. I've got to figure out what to do about you."

Michael's eyes were on me, burning through to my soul. "You can't. The police are looking for us. It's dangerous out there."

"It's dangerous in here." I gave him a weak smile. I turned on my heels to go, afraid of what I might say if I stayed. My hand on the door, I said, "I need to do some things out on my own, okay? Just give me ten minutes. We can talk about it then."

As the door swung shut I heard him say, "I love you, Deidre."

Eion met me halfway down the stairs with a smile and a tray of fruit.

"I was just coming up to check on you and Michael," he said cheerily. Then, his face registered the fact I was wearing Michael's tee shirt and not much else. Eion looked at my bare legs and blushed.

Under normal circumstances I might have enjoyed taunting Eion, but with Michael half-naked just beyond the belfry door, I froze.

"No!" I shouted. "Don't go up there! Michael is ... Michael is ... sleeping."

Eion stared intently at the grapes and oranges on the tray, a strange smile playing on his lips. "Okay," he said to my surprise. Clearing his throat, he added, "Maybe you'd like to come down to the rectory, have some lunch ... or take a shower or something?"

"Yeah," I said. "A shower would be nice."

The shower restored my sanity. My fear gurgled down the drain with the warm, reviving water. Relaxed, I joined Eion in the refectory. Wrapped in a black terry-cloth robe with the papal heraldry of Saint Denis emblazoned over my heart, I sucked orange juice from my fingers. Eion sat across from me, his hands folded neatly on the wooden kitchen table. A few curious priests poked their heads in, but before I could even wave "hello" they disappeared.

"Probably don't get a lot of women in the rectory, eh?"

"Of course not," Eion sniffed with a practiced offense. "We're Roman Catholic, remember, not one of those heathen American Catholics."

I laughed, flicking an orange peel across the table.

"No, Eion, I can't exactly see you as me handing-out-condoms type."

"Dee!" Eion lifted the peel out of his lap gingerly. He placed the offending item on the tray. "Please remember where you are."

"I'm in the lunchroom, Eion. This is hardly sacred ground. Condom isn't a dirty word. Besides, I've got it on good authority that sex isn't a sin." My smile faded. I wondered what possessed me to say that. I could feel my carefully constructed world rock just a little. I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself.

"Forget I said that," I told Eion's shell-shocked expression that I was certain mirrored my own.

"I think I'd better," Eion said.

I shook my shoulders out and let go of the edge. I lined up another bit of orange rind between my fingers. "Come on, be the goal."

"No, now stop it!" Eion waved his hands. "I have something serious I want to talk to you about."

The peel was aimed perfectly, my fingers poised to deliver a hard flick. "I don't think I can handle any more seriousness right now, bro. Come on, play with me instead, huh?"

"Deidre, I had a vision."

I sputtered at his words. The orange peel bounced off the fruit tray. I straightened the collar of the robe and gave Eion a hard look. "What do you mean, like another LINK-angel?"

"No, Dee, nothing like that – it was beautiful. I was in the middle of Matins when it came to me." The lines on Eion's face smoothed out, reminding me of the stained-glass angel's peaceful gaze. "It wasn't at all like the LINK-angels ... it was less clear, more like a dream – very symbolic."

I nodded. Everyone around me had gone completely insane. "Okay," I murmured. "What did you see?"

"You." Eion's fingers reached out to recover the out-of-bounds orange peel. He placed it on the tray with the others.

"Me?"

I watched him in silence. Finally, he looked up at me. "Yeah, isn't that odd?"

"I'd say," I agreed. I ran my fingers through my damp hair and rocked back in the wooden chair. "When you say 'vision,' you're not talking about, like, a daydream. You mean something more biblical, right?"

"I'm quite certain it wasn't a daydream. And ..." His eyes slid away from mine again to stare at the fruit bowl. "With our visitors, and, well, everything that's happened today, I'm sure it is some kind of portent."

"I don't want to hear this, Eion. Things are already too weird."

"Nothing like this has ever happened to me, either, Dee," Eion said. "None of this. I'm afraid if I tell my colleagues about this, they'll think I'm completely insane."

"Maybe you are," I said quietly. "Maybe we all are."

"You're wrapped up in something big, Deidre. I know I haven't been supportive during all of your trauma. But ..."

I snorted, "That's an understatement."

"... But," he continued, ignoring my jab, "this vision ... I saw you in an apple orchard with a seraphim. You were holding a lily."

"I am the archangel Michael." Another voice, chiding me: "Remember me."

I tasted citric acid in the back of my throat. "A lily?"

"Um?" Eion looked at me, as if suddenly realizing he was talking to a layperson and not another priest. "Oh, well, it's an old-fashioned icon, but standard enough. Old hard-copy of images of the Visitation always show the Virgin Mary holding a lily. A dew-draped lily represents an active male ... well, you have more experience with that sort of thing than I. Surely, you can see the resemblance."

"Some things done in the name of love have a bitter edge."

"The Visitation," I repeated. My stomach flopped. "Eion, you can't be serious."

"I don't know what else to make of it."

I stood up so suddenly that the chair crashed to the floor. Eion jumped.

"I need to borrow some of your clothes," I demanded, my voice thin with hysteria. "Where's your room?"

"What?" Eion started at my sudden change of mood. "Why ... ?"