Most of the world believed that Lucifer was dead set on returning to heaven, causing a whole lot of ruckus, and destroying the world. After thousands and thousands of years in hell, all Luke (as a few lost souls referred to him as) could honestly think about was enjoying a nice root beer float and going on a tour of the Museum of Natural History’s space exhibit. The last time Luke had visited they hadn’t even dreamed of it yet.

Luke’s biggest problem with visiting earth was the whole opening the demon gate, visiting with the worshippers and all that nonsense. Luke didn’t really like devil worshippers much. He much preferred a small, private ceremony that included tea and cookies awaiting his arrival. He definitely did not enjoy the prancing fools covered in goat blood that usually awaited him. In those instances he would most often sneak out the back leaving quite a few confused cultists to sort things out.

On a not-so-memorable day Luke found a suitable door growing out of the northern wall of his quaint little house. Originally it had been monolithic structure, but in the light of a new millennium Luke decided to simplify things. He had some interior designers over for tea and they came up with a lovely little Victorian design, which suited Luke just fine, although, he did have to spend three hours convincing them not to hit on him. The castle was torn down and the house was built in its place. Now about the budding door…

It was one of those sliding glass doors that always seemed to confuse Luke. One time he had walked straight into one and bloodied his nose. The blood ruined his suit and he spent the better part of an afternoon sitting in a police department trying to explain that he needed a doctor and that, no he was not covered in someone else’s blood.

Luke studied the door carefully. He took out a sticky pad and wrote “DOOR HERE” and stuck it to the glass. With the precaution in place he began packing. He threw in the suit he had bloodied on the previous occasion (now dry cleaned although still a bit stained), three pairs of silk boxers, a couple socks, a pair of jeans, and two unholy Hawaiian shirts. He left just enough room in his suitcase for souvenirs. He leaned into the bathroom and threw a couple of toiletries into a bag while he checked out his appearance.

“Is stubble in this year?” He asked himself while rubbing a hand over his chin. The faintest beginnings of a beard were beginning to show. Ice blue eyes stared back at him from under black, frowning brows. “I think I’ll wait to shave.” He checked his teeth for food, rolled a bit of deodorant on, and with that he was on his way. Luke turned on his answering machine, grabbed his bag, turned on his heel, and walked straight into the glass door. “Crap.” He grunted. Blood gushed from his nose once again. After stuffing a wad of toilet paper in his nose and debating whether or not a bunch of devil worshipping teenagers expected a man in his mid 30’s with what looked like a box of Kleenex up his nose to stumble out of a sliding glass door in their basement, he carefully opened the door and stepped through.

“Holy shit! It’s working! It’s working!” Cried out Tom, better known as Malekii when Satan worshipping which only happened on Tuesday afternoons after lunch. Tom watched as what appeared to be a lost Kleenex headed businessman trip over his own feet and land in a spread-eagled mess on the floor of his room. Tom’s friends, Amy (Self-named Sheba) and Scott (Also known as to as Razor) both squinted as if to see the demon within the man laid out on the floor. Neither found anything. The three teenagers surrounded Luke as he began picking Kleenex and bits of garbage from Tom’s floor off of his face.

“Uh Tom…” Began Scott.

“ Malachi!”

“Yeah Malekii, anyway, this guy doesn’t exactly look like Satan. You sure we did everything right?” Tom looked over the altar he had built out of a large shoebox and some Hanukah candles his mother bought him.

“Maybe we should have used Perdue chicken blood instead of the store brand…” Tom mumbled. Luke stood up and surveyed the room. The dark, damp, crowded den of a teenager lay before him. Little tumbleweeds of trash encircled the area where he stood. Posters of death metal bands and soft-core pornography littered the walls. Luke turned to the confused children. Three sets of eyes, heavily blackened with mascara and eyeliner, looked upon him in horror. “Are you an accountant?” Scott Asked.

Luke shrank back and screamed, “My god child! I’m the lord of hell! Do I look like an accountant?!?” The teenagers looked a bit relieved, although even more perplexed.

“If you are Lord Satan why do you have tissues up your nose?” Luke’s face began turning red.

“I had a little…” A voice from downstairs cut the sentence short.

“Tom! What in heavens name are you shouting about?!?”

“ Nothing Mom…” Tom looked down in embarrassment. The Lord of hell was not supposed to be greeted by having his worshippers be scolded by their mommies. Luke looked to Amy.

“Where am I?” He figured she was the one to ask. Women always seemed to be able to handle the arrival of the Fallen Angel better.

“Don’t you know? You’re in Long Island.”

“ Oh god. I though this was a doorway out!” Luke flopped down onto Tom’s disheveled bed. This was not exactly what he had in mind when he first saw the door beginning to appear in his bedroom. “Is there a car rental near by?” The kids stared blankly at him. “Alright.” He cleared his throat and began with his ‘I’m the all evil and I’m going to scare the living be Jesus out of you’ voice “As Lord of Hell and your master I command you to bring me the yellow pages! Pronto!” Each teenager sat bolt upright and began clambering over each other to get to the door. Scott made it first and ran downstairs. Luke could hear him ask Tom’s mother in a very sweet voice for the phone book. Luke assumed as that moment Tom’s mother was patting Scott on the head and remarking at how polite he is compared to her son. While Scott was downstairs Amy began nosing around the sliding glass door that remained firmly stuck in Tom’s wall. Behind the glass you could just make out though the swirling mass of black cloud Luke’s homey bedroom. Luke jumped up as she reached for the handle. “Uh, stop that! Pretty young ladies should not use interdimensional portals to visit the lowest bowels of hell. Besides I haven’t cleaned in there this week and I refuse to have guests when my house is a mess.

“Is that a stuffed animal on your…” Luke clapped his hand over her mouth and with the he used his middle finger to rub his palm in an awkward fashion. A key appeared in his hand. He knew it wasn’t the most interesting parlor trick, but he could never figure out how David Copperfield did any of the fun ones. As he used the key to lock the glass door it began to fade away.

“That’s better.” He dropped the key into his coat pocket and turned to face an unnaturally bright light emitting from the window. As the light began to fade he could begin to make out a large angel trying desperately to become unstuck. His legs dangled from the sill and the upper half of his body remained outside due to the fact that his enormous wings happened not to fit through the small space. Luke meandered over, smiling at the horrendously embarrassing situation that the angel had placed himself in.

“Need a hand?” The Angel looked up and grimaced. It was Tyriel.

“You just stay put. I’ll be in there in a second. Tyriel tried to worm his back end out of the window. Luke saw a perfect opportunity to get revenge for the last time he had seen Tyriel. The angel had pantsed Luke on national T.V. That’s a long story we won’t even get into. Luke reached over and took a firm grasp on Tyriel‘s pants and as Tyriel pulled himself out his pants remained. Tyriel ended up hanging for dear life to Tom’s windowsill in nothing but his boxers. Tyriel pulled a cell phone out with one hand and dialed with his nose. On the third ring the party on the other end of the line picked up. “Yes, hello God. I would formally like to request that you remove my wings for the remainder of the time I shall be spending here on earth. Yes I know. I will. Please I am wearing clean underwear.” A moment later his wings vanished and Tyriel pulled himself into Tom’s bedroom. “Thank you. I’ll report back in when I have the Morningstar under control. No, but I… Gah! Can I please get off the phone? Yes. Thanks. I’m sorry. Goodbye.” I swear Metatron needs to get god a pet. Perhaps a parrot.

“Well that was fun. What do you do next?” Luke Asked. Tyriel only held out his hand with a stern look on his face. “Oh yeah, the pants.” Amy giggled as he pulled his trousers back on.

“The Vatican announced today that laughter was a sin, so be quiet!” Tyriel was in a mood.

“And as for you… What are you doing back on earth Morningstar?”

“ Why don’t you call me Luke? Everyone else does. Besides I’m only visiting for the day.”

“ You said that before and we all remember the 80 foot tall flaming Michelin Man that attacked Nebraska.”

“ I though we agreed never to speak of that again.” Tyriel Glared at Luke.

“March your ass right back though that door!” Tyriel yelled. The Morningstar laughed.

“You do realize its locked right?” Tyriel walked over to the mostly faded sliding glass door and gave it a tug.

“Crap! Frigging door! Thing of Satan’s own invention created to annoy me!” An odd, worried look came over the angel.

“Uh sorry everyone. I mean…Oh crud, the door is stuck.” He looked sheepishly at the ceiling and then frowned at Luke again. He raised his voice to shouting level. “Where is the key!?!”

Luke responded in his own not-too-quiet voice. “Come on Tyriel gimmie a break!” The fighting went on until a voice greater than both of them combined could ever create boomed over the noise.

“TOM! What in heavens name are you doing up there? Stop that shouting this instant! It’s almost time to go to Grandmas! Get dressed and tell your little friends to leave!” Toms face turned bright red. Both angels stood silent. Tyriel released his death grip on Luke’s neck as Luke ceased biting Tyriel‘s ear.

“Tyriel, I’ll make you a deal…” The angel groaned.

“Not again, Morningstar. The last time you gave me that line was when I let you back onto earth and you started that whole apple thing.”

Luke raised his hands defensively. “No apples, I swear. No worldwide fires, floods, earthquakes or Ice Capades. Nothing like that, I swear. Just a few hours. I’ll behave.”

Tyriel smirked, which was an odd, alien motion for an angel’s face. It looked less like a smirk and more like something very painful had been done to Tyriel’s nether regions. “I’m sure you will. Well, you know I can’t drag you back by force, at least not by myself. I’ll be back in a second with the rest of The Host. Let’s see you bite their ears and get away with it.”

Tyriel had been, as he mentioned, the angel who was responsible for allowing Luke onto Earth at the dawn of Man’s creation. Citing the incident that followed, God had demoted him from Grand Seraph of the Legions to the rank of Cherub. Nothing emasculates an angel more than taking away his flaming sword and giving him a title that is usually reserved for creatures native to Hallmark cards. Suffice it to say, he bore Luke a substantial amount of resentment, but at his current power level, could do little more than inconvenience the sinspawn. But if he came back with a few Seraphs…Luke grimaced at the prospect of waging trans-ethereal battle with his brethren once more. Over the millennia, his skill with the Obsidian Soul Stealer blade, a weapon of apocalyptic power that he had forged with his bare hands at the start of the War, had given way to more practical skills. He could write beautiful calligraphy now, and had nearly mastered the base guitar. The Seraphs probably couldn’t tell a high G from a sustained F, but undoubtedly they were in at least slightly better shape as far as the swordplay went. Anyway, Luke was even less interested in high combat in a surely teenager’s bedroom. He held up a hand.

“No, Tyriel. I’ll go. Just do one thing for me before I cast myself back into the Pit.”

The angel looked skeptical, but nodded. “What is it?”

“Can you explain to me how it is that God is supposed to be all loving and all powerful, yet I can fight him? Give me a reason why a Supreme Being who was all about love and forgiveness could or would allow a being such as myself to exist.”

Tyriel’s eyes bugged out for a moment, and then there was a dull popping sound. The angel vanished, leaving only pants and a t-shirt where he had stood. Luke smiled, and for the first time since his arrival, the three teenagers who had been standing by, dumbfounded by what they were seeing, recognized Luke for what he was. When Satan smiles, your heart tries to climb out of your ass. There is no purer terror. He whispered to himself as he walked past the Tom, Amy, and Scott who had just returned with the phonebook in time to see the angel spontaneously combust.

“Nothing gets rid of one of those holier-than-thou punks faster than pointing out a flaw in their Maker.” He reached for the phone book, scanned for a rental dealership and grinned. “Ah, here we go…Rents-R-Us.” Luke tossed the book to Tom and walked out the bedroom door. Tom looked around confusedly. “What the hell was all that?” Scott ignored the comment and wandered over the sliding glass door that had almost totally receded into the wall. He reached up and touched the post-it note before it disappeared.

“Shit! It burns!” Scott jumped back and looked down at his wounded hand. The words “door here” were scorched into his flesh backwards.

Luke had quite a time at the rental dealership. Having no identification what so ever, Luke was refused many of the cars. The salesman, Larry Shinner, had just gotten a promotion to floor manager and wasn’t about to let some business man, who said he was from New Jersey and happened to have his wallet stolen that day, get him fired. Larry had guided him over to a small Smurf-blue Plymouth Horizon. “This is all I can give you. It has no interior electricity, the alignment is off, the brakes are beginning to fail, the steering wheel is loose, and I think the last guy who used this puked in the trunk. Please sign here.” The Morningstar peered into the tiny car, visibly uncertain.

“Are you sure this thing is safe to drive?”

“I’m absolutely sure it is not and if you do happen to get it stolen while you are visiting the city, Rents-R-Us will send you a check for thirty-two cents as payment for doing us a service. The insurance on this thing is worth twenty dollars, which is more than the car is worth.” Larry’s voice could have had an edge of sarcasm to it, but the fact was he was telling Luke the honest truth. A car salesman was being honest. At roughly the same moment, the ambient temperature in Luke’s home dropped five degrees. The small, bespectacled man tapped his foot. He had better things to do than sit around and watch this poofy accountant try to decide if the car had a prayer of working. Little did Larry know Luke was more than capable of telling him exactly how much of a prayer the car had. He had opened the first Infernal Fill-n-GO stations himself. Now the Pit was covered in the little convenience store/gasoline stations. Of course, Big L was the only guy with a car, but that didn’t seem to alleviate the smog… Despite his auto mechanic expertise, it hurt Luke’s head to think about the logistics of keeping this car together. He needed something and he wasn’t about to opt for the bus. Neither God nor himself had invented public transportation and each side tried to blame the other. And both sides were (secretly,) (extremely,) worried about just where it had come from.

The ride itself was uneventful until he got to a small diner. Luke figured this would be a good place to get a milkshake. The sign overhead screamed “Goo Food” in neon letters. The “D” occasionally made an appearance, but it was obvious the sign was trying hard to warn customers. Luke didn’t take the hint. He parked the little blue brat of a car in front of Goo Food. Luke pulled out a cell phone and dialed home before venturing into the Diner. Three rings later…

“Azrael, does every religious figure only pick up the phone after three rings?”

“ Uh, Hi Luke. Actually, yes. It’s in your Supernatural Beings Guide to the Post-Creation World. Haven’t you read the millennium version they put out?” Luke paused for a moment to wonder who the infamous “they” might be and then realized that those kinds of issues are for the humans to theorize about.

“So, how are things back home? I was just stopping to get….” Azrael cut him off.

“Luke, we’ve got a situation down here. A 34-16 to be exact.”

“ Angel streakers again.” Luke moaned. "All right, they’re probably expecting the same as last time. So forget the hoses. Let Cerberus off his chain and hope he doesn’t kill too many people. I swear. That dog needs obedience training.”

“Yes sir. Hold on one moment.” Luke could faintly hear the fallen angel on the other end talk into a crackling radio. “Fluffy bunny to Porcupine 3 do you read me? Over.” Snap pop sizzle replied the radio. “Fluffy bunny to Porcupine 3 do you read me? Over.”

Lechies, Luke’s dog sitter, answered the transmission. “This is porcupine 3, how can I help you fluffy bunny? Over.”

“I need you to let Cerberus out. Over”

“Will do. Over.” Lechies wandered to the strong iron chain that climbed up the side of a great stone doghouse and disappeared into the gate mechanism at the top. The sound of a huge metal gate rising came through Luke’s earpiece. When the last of the barrier rumbled into place six large, flame colored eyes opened sleepily. “Here boy! Come on. Time for walkies!” The eyes snapped to attention and the beast lumbered quickly to its feet. Standing a good eight feet at the shoulder, Cerberus towered over Lechies. The demon rose up on his tippy-toes and scratched Cerberus behind one of his six ears. “There’s a good boy. You wanna go chase some angels. Do you? Huh? Do you boy?” The three headed dog barked and a passing lost soul was knocked to the ground by the shockwave. Cerberus sniffed the air and caught the scent of the mischievous angels. Two blocks over from Cerberus’s doghouse the naked cherubs ran to and fro in front of the immense skyscraper that housed Demon Enterprises (the subdivision of hell for demons specializing in the art of procuring souls). Inside, many of the day’s activities were put on temporary hold as workers took a break to watch the antics. Cerberus bounded towards the lot slobbering great white foam from his open jaws. The angels turned and squealed in surprise. One flew straight up and tried to balance himself atop a lamppost. Two others ran for their robes which they had stashed in a van across the street. The last made a mad dash for the back of the van and began throwing random objects over his shoulder as he searched for something. Cerberus jumped up and repeatedly tried to snap at the angel positioned precariously on the pole. Lechies observed in horror as the angel at the rear of the van found what he was looking for and brandished it at Cerberus. “Uh Fluffy Bunny? We have a problem. The streakers pulled out a Frisbee. Oh no. Cerberus is going for it. The idiots are playing with him.” Luke heard Azrael sigh.

“We’ll get the situation under control. They can only throw the damn Frisbee for so long. Um, by the way, could you pick up some bagels and a size 5 Giorgio Armani slip dress from Fifth Avenue while you’re up there? The wife has been killing me to get her something nice. I’ve got pictures of Armani dresses taped all over the house.” Luke agreed that it wouldn’t be a problem and hung up. The root beer float beckoned.

The inside of the diner smelled like grease. Luke selected a stool at the counter and a middle-aged woman took his order. Luke found her bright orange hair offensive, but he kept to himself and asked for a root beer float. The waitress shouted something about putting a hat on it to a man in the back and moved on to the next customer. The jukebox in the corner was playing a typical country song that consisted of dying dogs, broken down trucks, and incorrigible women. Luke had never found such music to his liking. He willed the jukebox to change, but the best it could come up with was a few random Queen songs. “Fat Bottomed Girls” provided an appropriate soundtrack for the diner. The root beer float arrived on the tail end of “Bohemian Rhapsody”. Luke drew in a deep breath of the popping bubbles of sugary heaven. Nothing beat a good float. He savored the taste of the creamy soda slipping over his tongue. A young couple sat down next to him and he barely noticed. They ordered a small lunch and chatted in a way that indicated newly weds.

“Oh honey, you know with the baby on the way we should really find a new place to live. A nice safe neighborhood.”

“ Well sweetie pie, I really have to stay close to the city. This job is very important to me.” The woman sat quietly thinking for a moment.

“I know! How about New Jersey?” Luke nearly spat his root beer all over the counter. After the renovations of hell, he had decided that hell would no longer be able to provide adequate facilities for the truly evil people of the world. Thus he set up new braches of hell in certain locations on the earth that would better take care of those souls. New Jersey happened to be on of those new divisions. He leaned over to the young man next to him and whispered,

“Whatever you do, don’t move to New Jersey. Trust me. You seem like nice people. I hear Westchester is a nice area.” The man smiled questioningly and turned back to his wife. Luke left a five on the counter and walked back to his car. He had done his good deed for the day and that was enough.

Luke got lost three times trying to find the Long Island Expressway (LIE) before he caved in and asked someone. Luke had been present at the invention of all the major languages. He was actually quite proud of himself for having single-handedly invented German. However, he could barely identify the creature before him as human, let alone figure out just what on God’s green earth it was babbling about. Discerning its gender was straight out of the question.

“Zig noric lep, ichie-gop, indet gopwunt, up (which could not possibly have indicated the direction ‘up’, as the accompanying hand gesture was a frantic circle,) nic foord poit ic slriop. Now can you spare some change?”

After that he bought a map. The cashier at the gas station asked if he was ‘one of them queer folk’. In Luke’s defense, the subsequent explosion was confined to a 1-block radius. Those Exxon bastards had it coming, anyway.

Luke turned onto the LIE and decided to contact home again. He took out his cell phone after giving the highway a good once over. He knew how strict the humans had become with talking on cell phones while driving. With no cops in sight he dialed 666-7452. Three rings later Azrael picked up.

“Yes Luke, the situation is more under control. We caught the ringleader of the streakers. After that the rest just fell into line. We convinced them to put some clothes on and wait Heavens officials to pick them up. Cerberus is pretty tired from all the running around. I think he fell asleep chewing on a lost soul. I sent Baal to take him home. Was there anything else you needed?”

“Yes as a matter of fact. I have an idea for a new torture device. I want you to build a huge maze out of sliding glass doors. I bet the kids will get such a kick when the watch all those damned souls trying to figure that one out!” The Morningstar chuckled to himself.

“I’ll have the designers get on that right away.” Parking in New York City is like trying to locate a five-leaf clover. Parking spots only become available once every three years when the moon is full and you’ll be damned if you can locate vacancy in the 22.96 square miles of Manhattan. Of course if you are willing to sell your soul for just such a spot Demon Enterprises will be more than willing to help you out. Luke, being the one who originally signed the paper work to allow Danjal (The sole authority over the souls of lawyers) to form the company, called in a favor.

“Demon Enterprises, President Danjal’s office. How may I help you today?” Purred a low, satiny voice. Luke swallowed and reminded himself not to be taken in by Danjal’s secretary. The president was infamous for hiring only the best succubus typists in Hell. “Hello this is Lucifer Morningstar, Lord of all that is horrid and malevolent. I wish to speak with Danjal on very important business.” The secretary waited for him to finish and replied nonplussed. “Danjal is quite busy. Could you perhaps call back at another time? I could make a phone appointment for you.”

“What do you mean he’s too busy? I’m the demon king for heavens sake! I order you to let me speak with him!”

“There’s no need to be rude sir. Let me ring his office and see if he can squeeze you in.” “Squeeze me in? I ought to have your seduction license revoked! Do you hear me?” Of course she didn’t, because in that moment she placed Luke on hold. A rendition of "Dancing with Myself" as played by a harmonica piped in over the earpiece. Luke gritted his teeth and waited. Before the song could repeat itself a slick male voice slid onto the line. “Ah Lucifer. I’m very sorry for the wait. My secretary has been blocking all my calls of recent after my daughter said she looked old. You know how women are. How can I help you today?”

“Thanks Dan, I was just wondering if one of your parking attendants in Manhattan could find me some place near Central Park West and 79th Street.” “At this time of the day? Are you looney? The best I could do is a parking garage down on Varrick and Vandam. Where you trying to go?”

“The Museum of Natural History.” “Ok here’s the deal. Drop your car off there. I’ll have Buster check it in. Take the blue A or C train uptown to 81st street. You’ll know the stop. They put up a mosaic of fish, bugs, and the lot. Sound good?”

“Ok I got it. Thanks a lot Dan.”

“No worries. You know me, always ready to do a favor.” Luke winced. Danjal loved to collect from favors as well. Even the Morningstar himself was not exempt from Danjals contracts.

+++++++the subway entrance will have been closed. Luke must find another way up+++++++

The Museum of Natural History rose up over him as he stood by one of the stone lions outside. He smiled with his perfectly maintained teeth and straightened his collar. Several passers-by fainted, and he reminded himself to stick to smirking, as that displayed his demonic nature significantly less. It did, however, make him look like an ass.

“This is it.” He stepped inside and bought an entry pass. The space exhibit cost about twenty-six dollars and the museum itself was any amount you wished to donate. Luke pulled out a handmade leather wallet that Haphaziel sent him twelve years ago for his birthday and handed a very pleasant and attractive young lady working the counter a hundred dollar bill.

“Do you need change sir?” She asked, batting long lashes in his direction with intent.

“No, no. That’s my donation. I figure I won’t get a chance to come back for a while so this should cover the next twenty or thirty years.” He waved her off, ignoring her shameless flirting. As Luke walked away, he overheard her telling the cashier next to her how all the cute ones were gay. His rage was curbed with a chilidog from the Museum Food Court. He had an hour to kill before the show, which he spent wandering the exhibits on ancient Europe for laughs. The part about the Crusades really had him going for a while. A group of children from one of the city’s Catholic schools didn’t quite know what to make of the young businessman who kept cracking up at the name Pope Pious.

“Seriously. What kind of a name is Pious? I mean if you knew this guy, you would know that it was so not what he should have been called. Pope three-shots-and-I’m-unconscious would have been more appropriate.

The space exhibit was all he could ever dream of. It was held in a giant white ball of a room. Luke had to take an elevator up to the exhibit floor. Then the museum workers passed out cute “Passports to the universe” which made Luke smile, considering his had been revoked during that long disagreement with God. This one wasn’t gilded in Cherub feathers that would move the bearer to any locale in the cosmos, but they did have Tom Hanks’ picture on the cover. Luke smiled (in a carefully controlled fashion). Old Tom had the whole damn planet convinced he was one of them.

Luke entered the show and sat down in the middle of the front row. He wanted to be at the center of everything. The tall dome overhead was lit faintly at first, but as the doors closed the lights faded away. Tom Hank’s voice filtered in as tiny galaxies appeared on the screens. Luke was surprised at the accuracy of the maps that were displayed. As Tom Hanks rambled on about nebulas and interplanetary travel, Luke watched very closely. This was the moment he had been waiting for. The very first time he had heard about this exhibit he had known what he wanted to do. The show began to wind down when he spotted it. He turned to the man sitting next to him and whispered, “There’s me. They never used to be able to see me except for an hour or so before the sun rose and an hour or so after it set, but finally, there I am. The only nice picture anyone has ever taken of me. They actually got my good side.” The man next to him leaned over and whispered back,

“Are you quite done yet?” Luke smiled and when the lights came up both he and Tyriel were gone

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