Gabriel shrugged later that night, as Samael had abandoned me to barfight Michael all evening: "Twins. What can you do? It's just how they show their brotherly love." She went back to fiddling with her horn, to the chagrin of the other angels.
"Stop that bloody instrument," one angel groaned, stuffing a mini-enchilada up the horn.
Samael lazed against the floor. "Ooo, Michael, rough. Just like I like it. You always did know how to titillate me."
"Filth," Michael sighed. "Absolute filth." He looked at me forlornly.
"You should have decapitated him when you had the chance," I said drily.
"There is no justification for you suffering this," the red-haired angel said. "Your power is a burden no mortal should have to bear."
"My power?"
His lips thinned. "Of course, Samael hasn't told you. You're a prophet."
