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“Wow! And what about her?” Mary was waiting for the answer with bated breath, not knowing yet why it was so important for her.

“As you can see, she disagrees. She’s fighting him. It’s a pity that it’s still… a draw... in this fight.”

“If I could see it, I wouldn’t have asked!”

Maria remembered the scraps of the conversation she had overheard in the temple, and frowned. There were too many layers in this picture, and too many unknowns.

“Lord have mercy! You’re so nasty sometimes!”

“Let's help her, shall we?” Mary just said with a prayer and hope in her eyes.

“I beg your pardon, dear, but that would be none of your business,” someone said politely, whose voice and appearance were terrifyingly similar to Michael’s.

“Our Father...” Mary began to pray immediately.

“Which art in heaven...” Devil continued and crossed himself. “I don’t remember the rest; I haven’t prayed for a long time... Well, little lovey-dovey, how are you? You decided to cheat both me and God again? And why don't you just live quietly?” He was thinking out loud as if he really wanted to get answers to these questions. “A nice place for a date, isn't it, young lady? You’re having a date, right?”

Mary took a quick look at the girl, who, as she suspected, was the reason of Devil’s presence as if giving her a signal. Not asking for help, but offering it.

“Nobly,” Devil noted sedately, following her look.

Meanwhile, the girl, contrary to Mary’s expectations, didn’t become dejected or crouch in the corner where she used to stand all the time, but instead she straightened up, lifting her chin.

“Equal to me,” Devil said, thinking aloud. “Equal. So keep out, I'll take care of her,” he said quietly, calmly, but threateningly.

“Why do you need her for?” Mary grew bolder.

“Just look at her! So perky!” Michael’s “chief” smiled encouragingly.

But Michael kept silent all this time. He didn’t feel guilty, but was cautious, ready to try to fight off the attack any minute and defend that priceless thing that he had – Mary, trustingly clinging to him.

The girl twitched strangely and froze for a few terrible moments, looking nowhere. Mary shuddered.

“What’s wrong with her?” She asked excitedly, turning to Michael, the silent guard who stood still behind her back.

“She's dying,” Devil replied with a mock indifference.

“How?”

“Painfully, if you are interested in details.”

“To hell with the details!” Mary shouted out angrily. “Why? What's the matter with her?”

“Be quiet, Mary,” the imp ran his hand over her forearm, trying to calm her down and share the warmth of his body and soul. “Words mean a lot. Some have so many meanings that it’s just a pleasure for the chief to twist them.”

“Explain to me what's wrong with her!” the angel demanded. “Why nobody helps her?”

“Because she helps them,” Devil answered meaningfully, admiring his victim. “Don’t expect any gratitude if you help people.”

“She's drowning,” Michael explained finally. “Not really she. The one who called her for help is drowning.”

“I don’t understand, how’s that possible?” Mary was confused. “After all, this is ours, this is my work. She’s just a human.”

“There are such people here on earth,” Michael continued to explain patiently, casting indignant glances at the chief, who disturbed the calm of his beloved. It sounded so sweet in his mind – to love. And it was so sweet to cuddle her again. But the scarier it was to let her go. And he knew that sooner or later it should be done. “You just haven’t met them yet. There are not so many of them, but they exist. Those whose job is to save others. Not in hospital wards, not in fires, not in the labyrinths of justice, but when the soul cries. When it’s only one step to death.

“And then she hears them?” Mary whispered, sincerely sympathizing with the unfamiliar girl.

“No, young lady,” Devil gri

ed, watching his prey with the passion of a hunter. “She doesn’t hear then, she hears these cries always, round the clock. She can help someone by giving back a part of herself. By sending a life-saving thought or idea. When a human is too far away and it’s too difficult for her and she can’t help, then you’re called. Or we,” he gri

ed bitterly, and his eyes grew dim, hiding many secrets in the depths of the blazing soul.