“No. Only about being killed by a demon's offspring." Her voice was bitter.

“And apparently I can take lovers by the thousand, but never bear a child of my own. How can I find my true mate when I cannot offer him a continuation of his line?"

“There are many types of love, Althea. A man's Love is not dependent on siring children, no matter how your mother and I may have seemed to disprove that, considering how many siblings we have given you." His lips quirked, and Althea giggled. It seemed that Lilith had barely recovered from bearing one half-human, half-angel child when she was expecting again. At the age of nineteen, Althea was now the oldest of eleven brothers and sisters, each more lovely than the last.

“Furthermore, God does not see all ends. Though he has passed his judgment on you, it may well be that the Almighty has other plans.

“So be of good cheer, daughter. And let's take a look at that sword."

Althea blinked, drawing away from the memory. Looking at the sword, she saw that her hands had completed the job of sharpening and polishing it, even though her mind had been over four thousand years in the past.

She held it up before her, and Josh gave a low, impressed whistle. It gleamed in the morning light, rays from the sun glinting off the honed edges. Unlike the green, corroded bronze swords which were still sometimes recovered from ancient archeological digs, this sword was brand new, and glowed a reddish gold.

“Stand back," she said quietly, then moved into a series of exercises, her muscles flowing from one position to the next, her movements blindingly quick. She ended with an attack in high guard, the blade whipping through the air with a keening cry. With a shout she swept it around viciously, cutting into a wooden support timber at the edge of the room. The sword bit a handspan deep, vibrating with a low, resonant hum.

"Good," she said, satisfied, then wrenched it out with an effortless shrug of her shoulders.

“Very good." She glanced over at Josh and

Yasna, who were looking at her with something approaching awe.

“What?”

"You were...so quick," Yasna said.

“I could barely see you move."

She shrugged.

“One of the benefits of my heritage. It isn't all puppies and rainbows and an awesome body and spectacular sex. You saw what the demon-spawn looked like when you were rescuing my body from the hospital, Yasna. Do you think that I could kill something like that unless I had some pretty incredible physical gifts myself? I'm like them. Half of my heritage is angelic.”

“You are not like them," she said fiercely. The dark-haired doctor crossed the room and grasped her upper arms, giving her a firm shake.

Her eyes blazed, and Josh smiled to himself. Yasna reminded her of a roe deer angrily confronting a hunting leopard, and expecting to win.

“You're not," she insisted. "You love. You feel. Our pain is your pain.

Our joy is your joy. Would a creature like Kincaid stay here with us, protect us, when he could just as easily leave? If you are so Like them, why are we still alive when you could have abandoned us and left us to stand or fall on our own?

“It's because of you, Althea. You say you are beautiful. I won't deny that. But the beauty of your body is as nothing compared to the beauty of your soul."

She stuttered to a halt, embarrassed and confused by the passion of her conviction.

“Maybe,” Althea sighed. Despite her unlined face, she suddenly looked very old. She laid the sword down on the worktable. "Could you make a sheath and a belt to hang it on, Josh? I don't feel like cutting myself to ribbons tomorrow night before I have a chance to kill Kincaid. It would be dreadfully gauche, after all, to show up covered in blood.”

“No problem," he said, confused and a little concerned by her sudden change of mood.

“I'm going outside for a while. Let me know when you have it done so I can try it on. Tomorrow's going to be a big day, I think."