“There was a soft chiming sound, which meant, tragedy of tragedies, the angel had just popped himself up onto the countertop. “So, what are we doing tonight? Wait, let me guess, sitting in morose silence. Or, no…you’re mixing it up. Brooding with soulful intensity, right? What a fucking wild child you are. Whoo. Hoo. Next thing you know, you’ll be opening for Slipknot.”With a curse, Tohr stood up and went over to turn on the shower, hoping that if he refused to look at the loudmouth, Lassiter would get bored more quickly and move on to ruin someone else’s afternoon.”

“Tohr jacked forward his in his seat. "What the hell!"As Lassiter's big body cut through the projection onto the screen, a gigantic pair of flapping breasts covered his face and chest. "Adventures in the Milfy Way. A true classic.""It's porn!""Duh--""Okay, I am not sitting through this with you"The angel, still standing up. shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure you know what you're missing.”

“Out into the staff quarters. Over to the entrance to the movie theater. Tohr stopped dead. “If this is another Beaches marathon, I’m going to Bette your ass until you can’t sit down.” “Aw, look at you! Trying to be finny.” “Seriously, if you have any compassion in you at all, you’ll let me go to bed—” “I have peanut M&M’s up there.” “Not my style.” “Raisinets.” “Feh.” “Sam Adams.” Tohr narrowed his eyes. “Cold?” “Downright icy.” Tohr crossed his arms over his chest and told himself he was not pouting like a five-year-old. “I want Milk Duds.” “Got ’em. And popcorn.” With a curse, Tohr yanked open the door and ascended into the dimly lit red cave.”

“Price,” Wrath said, still looking at his brother.“Well, here’s the thing.” As the king cursed, the man, Lassiter, laughed. “It’s not a price, though.”“What. Is. It.”“We’re a two-for-one-deal.”“Excuse me?”“I come with him.”“The fuck you do.”The man lost any levity in his voice. “It’s past of the arrangement, and believe me, I wouldn’t choose this either. Fact is, he’s my last change, so yeah, I’m sorry, but I go with him. And if you say no, by the way, I’m going to level us all like that.”The man snapped his fingers, a brilliant white spark flaring against the night sky.After a moment, Wrath turned to John. “This is Lassiter, the fallen angel. One of the last times he was on earth, there was a plague in central Europe –““Okay, that was so not my fault –”“ – that wiped out two-thirds of the human population.”“I’d like to remind you that you don’t like humans.”“They smell bad when they’re dead.”“All you mortal types do.”John could barely follow the conversation; he was too busy staring into Tohr’s face. Open your eyes…open your eyes…please God…“Come on, John.” Wrath turned back to the Brotherhood and started walking. When he came up to them, he said softly, “Our brother is returned.”“Oh, Christ, is he alive,” someone said.“Thank God,” someone else groaned.“Tell them,” Lassiter demanded from behind. “Tell them he comes with a roommate.”As one, the Brothers’ heads snapped up.“Fuck. Me, “Vishous breathed.“I will so pass on that,” Lassiter muttered.”

“Lassiter skidded in from the billiards room, the fallen angel glowing from his black-and-blond hair and white eyes, all the way down to his shitkickers. Then again, maybe the illumination wasn’t his nature, but that gold he insisted on wearing. He looked like a living, breathing jewelry tree. “I’m here. Where’s my chauffeur hat?” “Here, use mine,” Butch said, outing a B Sox cap and throwing it over. “It’ll help that hair of yours.” The angel caught the thing on the fly and stared at the red S. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” “Do not tell me you’re a Yankees fan,” V drawled. “I’ll have to kill you, and frankly, tonight we need all the wingmen we’ve got.” Lassiter tossed the cap back. Whistled. Looked casual. “Are you serious?” Butch said. Like the guy had maybe volunteered for a lobotomy. Or a limb amputation. Or a pedicure. “No fucking way,” V echoed. “When and where did you become a friend of the enemy—” The angel held up his palms. “It’s not my fault you guys suck—” Tohr actually stepped in front of Lassiter, like he was worried that something a lot more than smack talk was going to start flying. And the sad thing was, he was right to be concerned. Apart from their shellans, V and Butch loved the Sox above almost everything else—including sanity.”

“What the f*ck do you want from me?”He had to laugh. “Please. If I were running this show, you’d have had her back down here months ago and I’d be long f*cking gone.”Tohr laughed a little in surprise.“Aw, come on, my man,” Lassiter muttered. “I don’t want to screw you. You’re too flat chested, for one thing—I’m a boob man. And for another, you’re a good guy. You deserve better than this.”Now Tohr looked downright shocked.”

“Don't be an asshole"Rhage summed up the regurgitation with two words: "Kettle.Black."Fucking hell. "Did you guys plan that out?""Yeah and if you don't fight us"- Hollywood bit down on the grape Tootsie Pop-"we'll do it again- only with the dance moves this time""Spare me.""Fine.Unless you agree to home it,we WILL rock the dance moves." To prove the point ,the moron linked his palms behind his head and started doing something obscene with his hips. Which was backed up by a series of,"Uh-huh,uh-huh,ohhhh, yeeeeeeah,who's your daddy..."The others looked at Rhage like he'd grown a horn in the middle of his forehead. Nothing unusual there. And Tohr knew that, in spite of this ridiculous diversion,if he didn't cave,the lot of them would crawl so far up his ass,he'd be coughing up shitkickers.Rhage wheeled around,shoved out his butt,and started slapping his moneymaker like it was bread dough."For the love of the Virgin Scribe,"Z muttered "put us out of this misery, and go the fuck home"Someone else chimed in, "You know, I never thought there were advantages to being blind...""Or deaf""Or mute," somebody added”