I waited for the crowd to depart so I could return to the Chapel of St Michael. I recollected what Michael had unfolded of the events of Good Friday and found myself growing angry at the injustice and insolence of Satan in demanding the life of the Lord Jesus. That the wicked could triumph and then gloat, especially in such an evil act! I had to ask Michael when I returned. He made it easy for me. "You may ask what you would like."

 "Michael, was there a victory celebration in hell? Did Satan rejoice in putting the Lord to death?"

 "No. A celebration would imply joy. Satan has lost his capacity for any true joy. He has fallen too far."

 "Didn't he think he had triumphed over Jesus by putting him to death? Did he gloat?" "It is a bit hard to say." Michael saw the surprised look on my face. I explained, "I wasn't expecting that answer. You seem to have known everything about Satan so far. Do you mean there is something you don't know about him?"

  "There is much that I do not know about him. Not that it is forbidden. It is just that it is not wise. I too could become fascinated with evil. An overly extensive study of Satan is a dangerous thing. I guard my mind against it. Remember, he was created more powerful than I. I still don't know how much of that power he has lost. I only do battle with him as I am commanded. When commanded, I expect grace will be provided to win - unless the will of the Most High is that I should lose. So far that has never been his will.

 "...But we digress. The question was, 'Didn't he think he had triumphed over Jesus by putting him to death?' Not really.

  "The wail that was heard at Satan's fall from heaven was not just the pain of separation from God. It was more. Satan realized with utter clarity and finality, the foolishness of his attempt to grasp power from the hand of God. Yet, he has, willfully, lived in misery and hopelessness since. He has known all along that, eventually, he will be completely and eternally defeated. He has never had any hope of victory." I interrupted with a question. "Wait a minute. Michael, didn't you say Satan hoped to successfully tempt Jesus in the wilderness. That is what he said to those demons that were with him, if I remember correctly." "Unfortunately, you don't. I quoted Satan as saying, 'Do you think I tempt because I have a hope of success?' The correct meaning of these words is not exactly as they would appear. Remember Satan's nature. Satan is the deceiver. He is a liar and the father of lies. He was deceiving his own servants. He didn't mean 'Do you think I only have a hope of success? I am certain of it.' - although that is what he intended his subordinates to believe.  Satan did not tempt Jesus because he hoped to succeed, he tempted Jesus because he is evil and hates what is good. His pride makes him unwilling to admit to defeat, even though he knows it is inevitable. When he tempted Jesus, his motivation was anger and hatred. He acts out of a calculated, and blind rage. Satan had no hope of victory." "Back up again. You said - a calculated and blind rage. Isn't that a contradiction in terms?"

 "No. Satan calculates every move, but the motivation is always as purely evil as he can make it. It is blind to all other motivation, intentionally so. That is why his own salvation is out of the question. He refuses every good that he can. He has refused every thought of seeking a merciful pardon. Mercy is good, so he has rejected it.  He will never receive it no matter how often it is offered to him. His pride is far too great to consider receiving mercy. Even to hope for mercy is, for him, a sign of weakness. No, in hell there is no hope - no hope of things improving. There is no hope even of things not getting any worse. There is no hope.

 "Dante says there is a sign over the entrance to hell which says, 'Abandon all hope ye who enter here.' Is there such a sign?"

 "There is no need for a sign. You don't abandon hope when you enter hell, it abandons you. A empty, devouring darkness invades the soul. That is followed by an absolute conviction that this darkness is forever. You don't need a sign to tell you, you know it as certainly as you have ever known anything before. Hell is hopeless. There was certainly no hope of victory on his part, he knows he is defeated."

 "Then why was Satan so interested in seeing Jesus put to death?" "I can give two answers. The first has to do with his reasoning. Satan refused to believe that the Most High could bring salvation to humanity through the death of Jesus. Death meant consignment to Hades, the realm of the dead. A realm where Satan believed he alone reigned. He was convinced that through death Jesus too would be under his dominion. I doubt he would have put him to death otherwise."

 "Does that mean that God tricked him?"

 "No. The Most High simply acted according to his plan from the beginning of time. Satan acted according to his nature in response. In the crucifixion he could only see evil; he couldn't see love. That is the second reason Satan was so interested in seeing Jesus put to death. He is different than we are. We have an infinite desire for love, both to give it and to receive it. Satan has corrupted this. In him it is a nearly infinite capacity for hate. This is why he does all that he does. Hate, in its purest form, brings no delight. Many people hate others and they gain a perverted delight from the act of hating. They have a self-love that is somehow gratified by the destruction of anything good. They gloat saying, 'I showed them!' But Satan hates because it is his nature. There is no gratification in it for him at all. As the Most High can say, 'I am,' so Satan says 'I hate.' He doesn't feel exalted by dragging down the good. He seeks to destroy the good simply because it is good. That is why he sought to destroy Jesus. That is why he seeks to destroy you. That is why he seeks to destroy all that is good. He hates it. He hates God. He hates me. He hates you. He hates all human beings. He hates his own minions, and finally, he hates, loathes, despises, even himself and everything he has done."

 "If he hates all that he has done, wouldn't that mean he regrets what he has done? ... or at least the consequences of what he has done."

 "No. To regret would mean thinking it better to have done something differently. This he refuses to do. Regret can be the first step to repentance, the desire to change ones ways. For him there can be no repentance. He has chosen the falsehood that his way, the way of hatred, is perfect."  "That means he can't fail." I added. "In his terms, yes. Exactly. He cannot fail. In every action he undertakes, he either accomplishes the evil he set out to do, in which case he is successful but cannot take any joy in it. Or when he doesn't accomplish the evil he set out to do, he falls back onto self hatred. In all he does, he either ends by hating others or hating himself. In either case there is no failure, no regret. In the end he will have no authority or power left. Even then he will not repent. He will simply have a pure and total hate just for himself - an amazing form of self-centredness. Self-hatred will consume him and he will consume it. His end will be total self-derision.

  "... If only people understood the future. The end they face is to be like him or to be like Christ. Their outcome will be one or the other. If they do not explicitly decide to be like Jesus, they will eventually become like Satan. Those are the only two options." "So everyone must choose one or the other. - It seems to me that almost no one would explicitly choose to be like Satan." "You didn't listen closely enough. This isn't a choice for one or the other. The choice is not option 'A' or option 'B'. You need to choose option 'A'. If you don't, you will automatically receive option 'B'." "I would have thought it might be the other way around. That if you don't choose for evil, you will automatically receive the good. If you don't choose for hell, you automatically receive heaven."

 "Many people think that way. Unfortunately they are wrong. Heaven is a place of absolute, untainted good. This good must be chosen. Not to choose this good is evil."

 "Michael, returning to the original area of inquiry, if there wasn't a victory celebration in hell, what was there?"

 "More of what had always been there, only now even worse: tyranny, hatred, criticism, deceit, despair.... This is the fruit of rejecting the Most High. It was even worse because the mercy of the cross, the opportunity for reconciliation between heaven and hell, had now been completely rejected. "This was not a time of rest for them. Satan saw it as a prime opportunity for sowing seeds of doubt, despair, self-condemnation and any other foul thoughts he could. The disciples were as susceptible as they had ever been since answering the original call. Herod and the Sanhedrin were assigned demons to hardened them in their enmity toward the disciples. Pilate was wishing he could be rid of it all, but to wash the hands is not to wash the soul. The Sanhedrin allowed him no peace until he approve guards for the tomb."

 Michael paused again. He looked up at the gold leaf mosaic overhead and then turned toward me.

  "Time is running out. We must move on. Earlier, I said there were two stories you must hear. The one I have recounted in part already: the battle of Jesus Christ with Satan. The second I will tell you now. ...Do you remember the young woman you saw on the underground Wednesday?"

 I remembered her easily. "The one with the purple hair?" I responded. "I saw her again, on my way here, this morning." "Yes. Her name is Laura McDonnel."

 "Yes, Laura. I heard her name."

 "I am observing Laura's case, and how it is being conducted." "Is she on trial?"

 "In a manner of speaking, yes. Her soul is on trial."

 Michael went on to fill me in on her background. "Her story is not uncommon in these days. Laura is from Belfast. Like many from there, she came to London looking for work. Her older sister, Karen, had preceded her. Laura was raised in a religious home which previously gave her strength in her faith, but we have had to fight hard for her soul for the last five years. Right now she is at a very decisive point in her life. I fear she has given up, but we will still fight to the very end."

 "Do you know what the outcome will be in her case?" "No, I only know what the Most High reveals, and this he has not revealed to me. Her life and soul both hang in the balance. What she does today will most likely determine her eternal fate. This is a critical juncture in the battle for her soul. I am to allow you to see how that battle is waged." "I cannot give you much of the history of the battle for her soul. That would take too long, but I will give you the most important details. As I said, Laura was brought up in a fairly strong Christian home where all seven children were sent off to church each week, but that was where 'religion' ended. It was something one had to do as one's duty. At 16 and 15 respectively, Karen and Laura wondered about who God was, why they had to be good, and the purpose of life. During that summer they went away together on a youth retreat. Karen met the Lord quietly one evening and it changed her. Laura had what she later termed her 'religious experience.' It changed her as well, for the worse. She related to it just as an emotional high with no real content. It must be said that some of it was just religious hype. However, the Most High was reaching out to her in spite of the hype, but she rejected the whole experience as 'fake.' It marked the beginning of the slide her life took. She discontinued relating to what was known as the 'nice' girls set and joined in with a set of misfits. She made every effort to be accepted by them. In fact to do so she turned violently against her faith. Her life has been filled with pain and sorrow since. It was a major setback for her, and for us. We had been working hard to bring her into salvation." "Did you appear to her, too?"

 "No. There was no appearance, but she was spoken to."

 "How?" "It was in much the same way as you and all others are spoken to. I have already told you about messengers and angels of comfort and how they work. Although they may at times be under my command, they are more directly under the command of Gabriel and Raphael. Angels under my command are the warriors, the guardians, those you commonly call guardian angels. These are the ones who prompt your conscience to do what is right, and help defend against all manner of temptation. If you listened carefully you might well be able to distinguish your guardian's voice from the voice of your conscience. Later, you will see her warrior, her guardian. He is called Teshua. He has spoken to her often, but, of late, she has refused to listen.

 "Laura's first years in London were particularly rough, even though she had everything she had come to London to find. She had taken a job as a model, earned very good money and was, as she puts it, being seen with the right people. She wanted to be accepted by the elite. The pressure of all of this was tremendous. Since appearance was so important, she bought expensive clothes, went to the right nightclubs, and styled her hair in the then currently most fashionable way. With it all came a dissolute lifestyle. At every turn Teshua was there, urging her to do what she knew was right. Eventually, her understanding of right and wrong deteriorated. Her mind grew more and more confused, believing as true what she formerly knew to be false. She became increasingly ready to take risks with her life and her soul, willing to try anything once. She believed it was the key to being accepted and successful. Even so, she felt in the wrong place, as though she were on the outside looking in. In the process she developed anorexia nervosa.

 "Again Teshua spoke to her, 'Don't you see what is happening to your life. Even your body is rejecting this lifestyle. It is trying to tell you to stop, listen to it.' Instead, she began working harder and accumulating more. Life grew more hectic which only made her anorexia harder to bear. Through her modeling she met several artists and pop stars, but her sense of inadequacy remained with her in spite of what she viewed as an exalted circle of friends. Her drug habit also grew. She sought solace in one drug, excitement in another, acceptance in another. Next, she moved in with a cocaine dealer and the cycle of emotional excitement grew even more reckless. He snared her into craving his affirmation even while he seldom gave it. In fact it was the opposite. For two years she was constantly degraded for everything she said and did. In the end she left, emotionally battered, lost and lacking in all self-confidence and self-worth.

 "She very nearly decided to reform at this point. Teshua spoke to her often: 'You don't want to do this. Turn away now and start over. Call out to the Lord for help, and help will come. It is your chance to be free from your chains.' While she was considering it, she went and visited another of her sisters, much like her, who lived in Amsterdam. It was a disaster just when our hope for her was rising.  There she was exposed to transvestite clubs, new and different drugs, witchcraft and fortune-telling. It was a period of total self-indulgence and an attempt to escape everything. Her heart grew very cold toward all that is good.

 "When she returned to London she decided to go to university. Like so many decisions she had made to start over, this decision, too, ended with her in a worse position than she was previously. Now her physical condition deteriorated. Her anorexia became very serious, because here again she felt like she did not fit. She was often exhausted, partly because she was now so thin. It became an enormous effort to drag herself to her lectures. She was also exhausted emotionally from trying to find approval and spiritually from battling emptiness. She believed she had simply become the shell she showed people, and there really wasn't anything else to her. The primary realities she could identify were the fear of rejection, and anxious self-concern. It led to more cocaine and promiscuity in order to block out loneliness. But sometimes the shell would break, and she would be paralyzed with crushing despair, unmotivated to talk or move, a prisoner to nihilism, despondent and hopeless. She gave up on education, success, fame, money, good looks. She had tried them all and found them empty, vain. "Still, human beings have been given a strong will to live. Even in the face of despair, intense suffering, or crippling loneliness, they hold onto what life they have. On the negative side, it means they do not easily come to the point of crying out for help. Often, by the time they do, it is too late." "A bit dramatic, isn't it?" I asked.

 "Everyone we work with is a drama, but the drama is reality, not theatre, and what we see isn't just dramatic acting but the internal, the true drama. You can drop the drugs, the promiscuity, the occult and still you are left with the battle for the soul, the true drama. All of the rest is incidental to us. We have seen it all, wild and tame. There is nothing new about it. It is the outcome that matters, not whether it is a colourful story.

"Did you see the Lloyd's Bank in Victoria Street?" Michael asked. "That is where Karen works. On Wednesday, Laura's guardian, the angel Teshua, had Karen's guardian prompt her to have lunch at a small restaurant in Victoria Station. He knew Laura would be coming that way. With some help, they bumped into each other. That is when you saw them. You saw Laura's reaction when Karen called her name."

 "She was not enthusiastic, to say the least." "Karen went on to offer to buy her lunch. At first Laura didn't want to accept the offer, but it was one of those rare moments when those with anorexia are hungry so she agreed."  "They went to The Specialty Sandwich Shop and sat at the corner table. They were a bit of an incongruity: Laura dressed all in black except for her white face and hands and the bit of purple colour in her hair, and Karen, a smartly dressed confident young woman working in the city managing the cashiers in the Lloyd's bank at 112 Victoria Street."I will recount for you their conversation. It has led Laura to where she is at this moment."

 "'Thanks Karen, but no thanks. I have heard it all before and I just don't believe it.' Laura was responding to an invitation from Karen to leave her current life behind. 'I'm just not like you. You are one of those types who believes. I'm not. You don't understand me. We are too different. Christian belief comes naturally to you, I guess, but not to me. I have asked all of those questions about life, like everybody. The answers I received don't satisfy me. I have even had a 'spiritual experience,' but it didn't make any difference for me. I have heard it all, and I am sick of it. I've tasted religion and I don't like it. You can have your church and your very pious self-righteousness. I didn't before and don't now want anything to do with it.'

 "'Laura, you are probably right,' Karen responded, 'I don't understand you. I haven't done hardly any of the things that you have. We are living totally different lives. But...'

 "'No buts,' Laura interrupted. 'You haven't seen the other side of life. I've had money, clothes, and lived the exciting life. That whole way of life makes me want to vomit. It's empty. Your life is no better. I am now living in reality. Life is ugly. I refuse to pretend it's not.' "'But Laura, opting out with drugs isn't an answer.' "'I didn't say it was. In the end, it's no worse than your Jesus stuff. What difference is there if I live in a run down flat or not. Does it matter if my friends die of overdoses and yours from working too hard? We all die. Sooner or later we all die, when doesn't matter much. For all I care, it could be tomorrow. The world won't miss me. Even Mum and Dad don't care, oh, they try, but they don't understand me any better than you do.'

 "'Karen tried to interrupt but Laura waved her off. 'I've stopped listening. I have heard a lot of people say they care but every one of them has turned on me sooner or later.'

 "'Laura, let me finish what I was saying. Whether I understand you or not isn't the question. I'm asking how well you understand your own self, what you are doing, and why you are doing it.' "'I don't understand any of it. So?' Laura's patience was gone. Now she didn't even want to talk. "'Don't you care about your life anymore?'

 "'I don't even think about it anymore.'  "Karen saw that Laura was getting ready to leave, but she wanted to talk to her just a bit more. 'Do you want some desert?'

 "'No.'

 "'How about coffee or tea?'

 "'NO!'

 "Karen knew she had only one more chance, so she decided to say it straight out. 'Laura, I am concerned for your life.' "'So.'

 "'There is hope. There is a way to get through this, but you need help.' "'I don't want your help. I don't want anyone's help.' "'Laura, I don't think I can help you. There is only one that I know who can help you now, but you refuse his help.' Karen was looking directly at Laura, hoping for some sign of receptivity. There was none.  "'I told you before, I don't believe this Christianity stuff at all. No way. None!' Laura stood up to leave.

 "'Do you remember what I told you last time we talked?' Karen made one last attempt. Laura had not forgotten it. In her present state of numbness, her anger about what Karen had said was one of the few things that convinced her she was still alive. The words remained like fire in her mind: 'You are going to keep on living in your hell on earth until you ask the Lord to help you. Nothing you do will get it to change. You can't escape the emptiness on your own.'

 "'Escape,' that was the key word now. That was what she wanted - a permanent escape. She had been hearing that word in her mind for weeks. Now she decided. Laura's response to Karen was simple. She took her jacket and turned from the table. 'I hope you are done speaking, because I'm done listening.' Looking back one last time she said, 'Don't bother looking me up either. You are wasting your time.' With that, she left. "Karen remained sitting at the table looking a complete failure. 'One thing is clear,' she thought, 'I'm no evangelist.'

 "Finally," Michael continued, "I must tell you of the events of today. I am giving you the details so that you might be thoroughly up to date when we join her.

 "This morning you saw Laura on her way to the chemist's to get a refill on a drug she has been prescribed. She handed the pharmacist her prescription for Tuinal and waited as they filled it." "'Having trouble sleeping?' She was asked. "'That's what they're for aren't they.' It wasn't a question. She knew her drugs. "'Take one of these at night just before you go to bed. You shouldn't have any trouble sleeping using these. Make sure you don't exceed your prescription, and under no circumstances should you have any alcohol for at least three hours before taking one.'

 "The pharmacist gave her the package, and she paid for it on the way out the door.

 "'30 tablets. One month's worth,' she said, 'They will last me a lot longer than that.

 "She has proceeded back to her flat, and that is the situation now. It is time for us to join them."
 "Them?"

 "You will see, soon. I will take you there." "Where?"

 "To Laura's flat."

 Michael stood up. As I began to stand, he briefly put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Remain seated. We aren't walking. I will take you there but not by any conventional means. Sit comfortably."

 I did. Then Michael lifted his right hand and brought it toward my head. Just as it was about to touch me the room seemed to fill with brilliant light. It was so bright that I couldn't see anything else. Surprisingly, my eyes didn't hurt. The bright light was followed by a very unusual sense of motion. It was smooth, not horizontal but not vertical either, and very swift. In what seemed less than 10 seconds, the sense of motion stopped and the light faded.

 My eyes adjusted slowly to the lack of light in the room. As they did, I began to see where we were. As Michael had promised, it was Laura's flat. She, and we, were not alone.

 Michael had warned me in advance that I would be experiencing some things in addition to what I might normally expect to experience, and that those who would normally see me, now wouldn't. What I saw looked at first like shadows in the air. Gradually, I noticed that these shadows, unlike normal ones, had three dimensions and varying shades of darkness. I could see the contours of what appeared like distorted human faces. I wanted to look away from revulsion yet I didn't. It must have been  due to the human fascination with the grotesque. Next I noticed that the air in the room was oppressively thick. It felt greasy or oily. My breathing was laboured, like one experiences when there is an exceptionally low level of oxygen in the air. The temperature was normal, or possibly a little cool, but there was an odour. I can't describe it other than as painful, like smelling a skunk or a badly rotted egg. I wanted to inhale deeply due to the lack of oxygen, but each time I did, I quickly stopped because it hurt.

 One of the shadows, the apparent leader, suddenly looked in our direction. I lost my breath, shuddered, and felt my temperature drop. The air wasn't any colder, I was. He must have just noticed our presence. Yet when he looked at us, he didn't seem so much to be looking with his eyes. He was feeling, sensing, assessing. I turned to Michael. Quietly, he answered the question he knew I had. "Yes, they know we are here. This one is her adversary, the opposite to her guardian angel. His name is Malor. Though he is reading us, you needn't worry, his assessment is that we are not here to interfere and that we have little authority in this situation."

 "Why does he think that?" "He does not see us as you do. He is sensing only how much light and truth we reveal at this moment. Because I am here only as an observer, I reflect only enough glory so as to see what is happening. I am no threat to him in this condition, so he won't even bother to discover my identity. To him, you appear as my assistant.  He is in fact assessing my presence accurately. I have been told not to interfere. I am only to explain to you what is happening and why."

 I looked around the room. It was a one room flat. It had a small table with two unmatched chairs. Along one wall was a bed with a lampstand and a small lamp at its head. Across the room was an overstuffed chair next to a wardrobe. The third wall had the only window with a shade pulled and curtains drawn. We were standing across from it near the door. There was nothing on the walls except the paint and even that was missing in places. Laura was slouched in the overstuffed chair, her arms hanging over the edge, her head hanging.

 As my eyes adjusted further I could see other living shadows. Each was different from the others though they all had a similar terrible coldness in common. Apart from Malor, there seemed to be one of significantly higher rank. His darkness was greater. The air around him appeared more suffocating. He stood across the room in the corner but appeared detached and removed, as though he were simply waiting, for what I do not know.

 In a hushed tone, Michael spoke to me. "Do you remember the name Chorbah?" "From the fall of Satan? Yes. Was he not a spirit of despair?"

 "Yes, this is he. Malor has called upon him in recent months to finish the work he had started. Her emptiness has turned into desolation and despair. It is Chorbah's work. He has led Laura to a decision. Tonight she intends to commit suicide. We cannot forcibly stop her as much as we would wish to. Through the years we have brought her much grace from the Most High, but she has too often refused it. Pray that she doesn't tonight." "But where is the grace to come from? All I see here are the servants of hell. Are there no angels to help. Is she that far gone?"

 "Nearly. Only Teshua and Thurian are left. One may speak and one may fight, but there is little left that can reawaken her soul. I expect little will be said, and that may be a while yet. When the time comes that word will have to be brief and piercing. It will be her last chance to respond to the truth before being lost forever into the realm of misery and darkness."

 As he was saying this he had been looking at the small lamp on the night stand at the head of the bed. It was only then that I saw them. I had been looking for human figures, but these were two small lights, one white and one silver. They were near the lamp but separate from it. Both were dim.

  "Teshua and Thurian?" I asked.

 "Yes. Their light is weak because she refuses it. In fact their power is greater than either Malor or Chorbah. Teshua, which you see as the white light, has been her guardian and her helper since her birth. He has never taken his eye off her for a moment. Thurian is here on a special assignment. He is a warrior, but he doesn't yet know whether or not he will be called upon to fight. If he must fight he will. If not, he will leave. Then hope will vanish quickly and forever." "How will he know if he must fight?" "He will know. Watch him closely. If he does not fight tonight, her soul will be lost. Yet, he will only fight when he is called upon in the name of the Holy One."

 Michael suddenly quit his narration and pointed in the direction of Laura. The third demon was now speaking to her.

 "You have finished everything, no more excuses. You are numb to it all. You must escape the emptiness. Your life is empty. You have known it for a long time now. You've proven it over and over. There is only one escape." "Michael?" I whispered asking for more help to understand.

 "Chorbah is one of the most effective. I almost always find him at work where people are contemplating suicide. He does more than just speak of emptiness and despair. He infuses it. He works on her emotions and attitudes. She feels his work more than she hears it in her mind. Even yesterday she would have resisted more. Her reserves are remarkably low. It isn't even a question of the will to live. Her will has been virtually destroyed. She doesn't even think thoughts like, 'I don't care anymore.' She has lost touch with her own thought and feelings.

 "When humans say, 'I don't care,' it means that they are still enough in touch to know that they could care, they just don't. In her case she no longer feels caring or not caring at all. She is numb to it. That is when there is real danger of them taking their own life. She has reached the bottom." Michael paused. I heard a woman's voice.

 "Everyone is gone. The cleaning ladies have left for the long weekend. Everyone is gone. I have made sure that no one knows that I am here." I realised it must be Laura's voice but I didn't see her lips move at all. Again I looked at Michael.

 "You will be allowed to hear some of what she is thinking - though not all. That would be too confusing. You will hear only what she is most conscious of thinking. Of course there is much more going on in her than what you will hear: some of it is barely conscious, some subconscious. There are also motivational and emotional realities which I can perceive and understand but you will not. It is this ability which makes me able to know exactly what she is feeling and the motivation behind her actions." "How do you sense that?"

 "You are right, it is a sense, like seeing and hearing, and is quite reliable. All angels have it, but in differing degrees. It is a very complex faculty. It needs to be in order to make sense of the very complex emotions and motivations of human beings. It is a bit like listening to five people speaking to you at one time on how they learned to ride a bicycle and being able to synthesize them into one united report." "I can't even listen to two peope at once." "It is a sense faculty we angels have but you do not, but it is not difficult for us any more than hearing smelling and seeing at the same time are difficult for you."

 Michael then continued with his explanation of Laura's condition. "In the last month she has sunk deeper into depression and anorexia. More and more frequently self-pity, loneliness, fear and despair have paralyzed her - not physically, but internally - in her will and her emotions. Her relationship with her family has completely broken down. She cut all communication with her father, and even though she has desperately wanted to speak to her mother, she can't bear to let her come close. She now wants nothing more than to get out - but there has seemed to be no escape.  Gradually, and then more frequently, Malor and Choreb have proposed suicide to her. Each time Teshua has strongly urged her to resist, but lately she has blocked out his voice. The thought of escape now blocks out almost any other thought. She has been given the plan for her suicide. To her, this alone seems to make sense. "This time she is serious. The first couple of times she considered taking an overdose she backed out. She'd think of her mother, or Karen, or others. She also held back a couple of times because of small things like overdue books. Now, none of these reservations remain. Escape is all she thinks about."

 Suddenly, the phone rang. Malor swore. Laura swore. "Why didn't I unplug that phone." It was on an end table next to the chair. She didn't want to answer it but she always answered the phone whether she wanted to or not. Her habitual behavior held. Her hand blindly groped for the phone. On the third ring she found it. Malor came over to Laura's side. "Hello."

 "Laura?" It was her mother.

 "Don't answer." It was Malor. Laura didn't answer. Malor stood near her monitoring the conversation.

 "Laura, are you OK?" Again she didn't answer.

 "Karen said she saw you the other day. She gave me your phone number. Where are you?" Her mother paused, waited, then continued.

 "She said you had lunch together. How was it?"

 Still there was no answer. "Have you been eating lately? Karen said that you looked even worse..."

 Silence.

 "You are eating aren't you?...  You are going to waste away.... Can I bring you some food?... Where are you living now?"

 Malor spoke. "You are going away today." "I'm going away today." Laura mumbled. Malor continued to speak to Laura, and she parroted what he said.

 "Where?" Her mother asked.

 "It's cold and dark here. I'm going to leave. I don't want you to come with me. You can't help me. You can never help me anymore. I'm not going to see you anymore. Good-bye."  Laura wasn't even hearing what her mother was saying.

 "When are you going? Laura, where are you going?"

 "I don't feel anything anymore. It is all blackness. Inside and out." "Laura, you must tell me where you are going?"

 "I'm sliding away. I am almost gone. No one wants me here. They have come for me, so I am going with them. It is time to go."

 "Hang up." Malor commanded. Laura hung up the phone and unplugged it.

 Michael whispered to me. "She didn't even know it was her mother. She just began speaking and quit as she was directed." Michael was exercising the faculty he had just described.

 Laura moved toward the table and opened a bottle that was sitting there. Chorbah passed through her mind again and spoke. "Now, no one will interrupt. No one will prevent. It is all done. Now, take and eat. Take and drink."

 Chorbah and Malor looked on, intensely. In the darkest part of the room the third evil presence kept his distance, not moving, speaking or interfering. He simply remained a foreboding presence - an evil waiting it's moment. Laura sat at the table. She opened the bottle of whiskey that sat on the table and filled a glass. She shook a dozen tablets into her hand, threw them into her mouth and swallowed them with the whisky.

 The pressure of the situation was becoming too great for me. It was no longer a clinical observation but an immediate reality. I was seeing Laura taking her own life. I grabbed Michael by the arm. "Don't let her do this. She is going to take her own life! Can't you stop her?" Michael stopped me with his hand. He was listening. Slowly, a look of sadness came over his face. "No," he sighed, "I cannot." "But surely you have the power to defeat these demons. Do something!"

 "How clearly you are a son of Adam. Quickly, you would take matters into you own hands, all in the name of salvation of course, but in the process you would cross purposes with the very One you seek to honour. Your nature is to act rather than to obey. My nature is simply to obey. The temptation to act on my own is not there. The desire to help, yes, but only as commanded." Chorbah, the spirit of despair, spoke again. "Nothingness is your freedom. The final and true escape from all your oppression. You must escape." Laura took an even larger handful of pills and poured more whiskey. As she ate and drank, she noticed that she had already consumed one half of the bottle and her motor control was slipping fast. "Now you must take the rest. One last act of defiance toward this miserable world." This time it was Malor who spoke.

 Laura laid out the rest of the pills. "Two dozen to go..." In eight groups of three she swallowed them, each with a small amount of whiskey. Then she drank the whiskey.

 "Two glasses to go."  She thought. "Do it quickly." Malor was provoking her. "Down it." She took two large swallows and got them down. Her throat was numb, but her lungs were still alive. The whiskey burned. Her lungs revolted. She coughed a mouthful back out, some of it going through her nose.

 "Fool!" Said Malor to her. Then he turned to Chorbah. "Utterly despicable. What, in all that is, is lower than the human being? Not just fools, but proud fools everyone of them. She is clay in my hands, but lower than the dirt from which she is made."

 Chorbah was quick to respond. "Clay in your hands! Your hands, Ha! I am here because you can't complete the work. Why is that?  Softness? Stupidity? Incompetence? Who has brought her to the point of desolation? She is empty, void of love, void of goodness. Who has brought her here? ME!" he said, pointing to his chest. "Soon she will truly enter the emptiness. The spiritual void is calling.  Escape it? Never! She shall become what she hates. She will embrace what she seeks to escape, ...and once in my embrace, she will never escape again. Welcome your despair, my dear. I will be your master. Chorbah has come.  Welcome him with hate just as he hates you! Yes, you will escape your bondage, but only to run into the arms of a bondage much worse. This bondage will be total and eternal. You have tasted but a portion of despair. You have only licked true emptiness."

 "As a dog returns to its vomit..." It was Malor now. "I will make her end yet more degraded..." "No!" Chorbah raised his hand to silence Malor. "Be cautious. Even small things can bring them to back out. Pain or even shame." "Shut up! I know what I am doing. I have known her since birth. She is putty in my hands. There is more evil to be done here. Why stop short!"

 "I have seen our enemies use anything to fulfill their purposes. Malor, your boldness is the trait of a fool."

 "Do you presume to call me a fool? You who are good for one thing alone, a specialist who knows everything about nothing. I know this rotten race. I have studied them. You only come and go as you are called. I'm the one who has done all of the work, day in and day out. For you it is a privilege to work with me!" Malor continued to ride Choreb.

  Laura poured the last glass and stumbled over to her bed next to the wall. The glass somehow made it to the night stand, and she fell onto her back on the bed. Her eyes began to glaze as she stared at the ceiling.  Malor spit at Choreb. "Your work is done. The time has come."

 Now the darkest of the shadows, the one that had spent most of the time silently waiting in the corner, came forward and approached the bed. No change registered in the two points of light near the lamp as the darkness approached. The shadow was tall, over eight feet, very dark and very cold. As it reached the bed, it raised its arms from its sides and reached into its chest. It withdrew a sword as black as itself. "Terror" was written in red on the side of the sword facing me. "Death." Michael whispered. "Malor has called him." "Is death in Malor's domain? Can he determine it?" I blurted out.  Michael's hand came quickly to my mouth to quieten me. "Determine it? No. But he does know the laws which govern life. Laura has broken them. Her body is not capable of handling the mixture of drugs and alcohol. This particular combination will strike fast when it reaches her central nervous system. Malor can see that as clearly as I. It is only a matter of minutes in the quantity she took.

 "Almost everything now hangs in the balance for Laura. Her final choice is upon her. Unless I am mistaken Malor will permit Death to manifest himself to her so that he might take her life at the moment of starkest fear. You will see it in her eyes." Death looked from the bedside back toward Malor, who nodded his head. He took his sword in both hands, set the point of the sword on her bed and leaned the shaft and hilt in front of her face. Now he turned completely dark. No light passed through him at all. He passed his left hand through Laura's eyes.

 Suddenly, her eyes grew wide with horror. She saw him and realized in an instant, with terrible clarity that she was going to die, and she didn't know what was going to happen next. A deep, long howl came from her mouth. The countenance of Death was unchanged. He absorbed her terror but found no delight in it. Laura called for help. Her cry was met with silence. Again she cried out, but no one heard. In desperation she banged against the pipes on the wall, but no one came.

 "Laura, my dear," in an artificially sweet voice Malor spoke. "You have planned this well. There is no one around. You wanted no chance of rescue, and now, there is none. Welcome your escape. You have come to the arms of Death."

 Thurian, the silver light began to fade. It moved from the lamp, passed through the wall on the opposite side of the bed and left the room.

 I could not watch. I closed my eyes and turned my head. "Oh, God..." But Michael took me by the arm and said, "You must watch."  As I did, Death raised his sword in both hands above her head and held it there. He waited as her fear multiplied and then multiplied again. Terror and Death had come to take her. Her fear now left her paralyzed. She could no longer move her body. Death slowly began straightening to his full height, extending his arms above his head, the point of his sword two feet above her fear filled eyes.

 He reached his full extension. As he did, quickly, urgently and quietly, a new voice spoke. It came from the near the lamp on the stand. "Call out for help. Now! You know your only hope." It was the voice of Teshua.

 Laura drew in a last gasp of air, held it and cried, "Noooo! Help! Help me!" Neither Teshua nor Thurian moved. "Help me! She cried out again into the void. The sword of Death came crashing down toward Laura's body just as she exhaled crying, "Jesus, help!"

 The great burst of silver light that followed should have blinded me but somehow didn't. It came right through the wall above her bed and lighting up the whole room in a flash. From within the brightness a beam of silver light arced across to the sword of Death just as it impacted Laura's body. The impact of the light against the sword created a sound which shook the entire flat as "Terror" splintered into a thousand shards of darkness. Thurian had been commanded to fight.

 Malor instantly perceived what had happened and roared with anger. He turned toward Chorbah and cried "Fooooool!" As he did, his anger grew as did his power. He took a deep breath. As he did, the dark shadow that had been the shape of Chorbah appeared to be inhaled by Malor and condensed into even more incredible blackness. Instantly there followed the sound of rushing wind as the entire blackness which was Chorbah was exhaled or hurled in the direction of Laura in an attempt to destroy Thurian's momentary flash of hope with the full weight of despair.

 Thurian, the silver bolt of light which had splintered "Terror, immediately changed form to that resembling a human, but this form lasted less than a second as he saw what was happening to Chorbah through Malor. He immmediately changed into the shape of a silver shield and dropped over Laura. He and Chorbah arrived instantaneously. Again there was a burst of light, a shattering of darkness, the crash as of steel on steel, followed by a long loud groan of anger and agony: "DAMNED!" Was the cry of the demon, Chorbah, as he disappeared.

 Meanwhile, more and more small and flickering lights entered the room: pink blue, silver, gold, green....  Most of them were surrounding Laura on her bed; many of them passing through her. It was impossible to tell f she was still conscious but she had a look of peace which replaced the look of terror which had been there a moment before.

 Death had stepped aside as soon as "Terror" splintered. He had continued to watch dispassionately, his face. blank, empty, expressionless. Now, he slowly turned and began to walk back toward his corner. As he reached the wall he turned, deliberately, and for the first time, spoke. "Only for now," he said in a voice deeper and darker than any I have ever heard, "she, and all, are mine, ...in time." With that, he passed through the wall and disappeared. Suddenly the atmosphere of the room changed. The coolness was replaced by a radiating warmth, reminding me of sunshine. It seemed to come from flickering lights surrounding and passing through Laura. The air cleared and became unusually pleasant to breathe, more invigorating than clear mountain air.

 I looked around the room. Only Malor was left, hardly visible in the brightness of the room. By now there were hundreds of small independent lights passing in through the walls toward and then through Malor's shadow. Slowly he lost shape. His darkness dispersed and from what I could tell nearly disappeared. I looked again at Laura. "What is happening to her?" I asked. "I thought you said she would die from the overdose?" "No," corrected Michael, "I said, 'It is only a matter of minutes in the quantity she took.' Life and death ultimately lie in the hands of the Most High alone. In his mercy, he has chosen not to allow her to die at this time. You are witnessing a miracle, a temporary suspension of the laws of nature."

 "Will they heal her then?" I asked. "Most definitely not. They will only sustain her in life. She will not awake again for a full 24 hours. The combination of drugs and alcohol would have easily killed her. She needs to know and remember that for the rest of her life."

 "Her salvation came just in time. It is a good thing she didn't wait one more moment." "It is a good thing he didn't wait one more moment."

 "Yes, Thurian is to be commended."

 "I wasn't referring to him."  That was the last I remember of Laura's room. In the next moment, I found myself kneeling in the chapel. My eyes were adjusting to what seemed to be very dim lighting, even though it was the normal lighting in the Cathedral. When I looked around, Michael was not there.

 I sat on the chair behind me, stunned. What had happened was more intense than any film I could remember. My heart was pounding at an unusually high rate. The images of Malor, Chorbah and Death raced before my mind's eye, and for a moment a chill went through my body. It was quickly replaced by the fleeting image of Laura, lying on the bed, surround by the flickering lights. More images passed through my mind, nearly as vivid and clear as they had been just moments previous, and I found myself in a state of profound joy at what I had just seen and heard. I was suddenly brought back to the reality of the moment by a hand on my shoulder. It was that of a warden.

 "I am sorry to interrupt your prayer, but the Cathedral is closing for the night."

 "Sorry," I said as I looked at my watch. Over an hour had passed since the end of the service.  "Nothing to be sorry about. We seldom have people who kneel in prayer for so long. I did not want to disturb you." Only then did it occur to me that I had been kneeling when I regained awareness of the present surroundings. "Did I disturb anyone?" I asked, not knowing exactly what I had been doing during my "prayer."

 "No, I don't think so." He said, but I couldn't tell if he was just being polite.

 I rose and left the Cathedral. As I returned to my hotel, I wondered when I would next see Michael.