Merlin looked at me with his flame-filled eyes, and smiled unpleasantly. "Ask your mother."

Somehow, I'd known he was going to say that.

"If some of these angels are agents of Heaven," said Suzie, in the manner of someone who had a problem bone, and was determined to worry at it until she got an answer that satisfied her, "why have they been killing people, and turning them to salt, and blowing up perfectly good buildings?"

"We only punish the guilty," said the chorused voice in the light. "And so many here are guilty of something."

Suzie looked at me. "They have a point."

"Of course," said Merlin, "here, all the angels are cut off from their Masters. Poor things, they're not used to having to think for themselves. Which is why they've made such a mess. Decision-making isn't really what you do best, is it, boys?"

"We are here for the Unholy Grail," said the light.

"Do you dare stand against us?" said the dark.

"Why not?" said Merlin. "It wouldn't be the first time, would it? Now back off, all of you, or I'll fry your pinfeathers."

The light faded back a little, and the darkness stopped spreading, but the sense of surrounding presences was as strong as ever.

'Taylor," Suzie said urgently. "Tell me there was more to your plan than just this ..."

"Not even half of it," I murmured. "Hang in there.

Sir Merlin, with your leave I think I can sort out this whole mess in a way that will please... well, nobody really, but it'll be a solution we can all live with. Live being a relative term, of course. I don't know where the Unholy Grail is, but I'm pretty sure I know someone who does. You see everywhere, Sir Merlin, so could you please grab the Collector and bring him here?"

Merlin gestured languidly with a heavily tattooed hand, and suddenly the Collector was standing right there in the pentacle with us. He looked around, startled, and his eyes all but popped out of their sockets with outrage. He started to say something, then saw Merlin sitting on his throne and shut his mouth quickly before it could get him into even more trouble. The Collector was a podgy, middle-aged man with a thick neck and a florid face, wearing a white jumpsuit and cape, as popularized by Elvis in his later days. It didn't suit him at all.

"Wow," said Suzie, sticking the barrel of her shotgun in the Collector's ear. "Now that's what I call service."

"Oh shit," said the Collector.

"Language!" said Suzie. "There are angels present."

"Hello, Collector," I said calmly. "How's the leg?"

"Taylor! I might have known you were behind this!" The Collector started to say something else, but Suzie shoved her gun a little further into his ear, an he stopped himself again. He glowered at me. "I had to grow a new leg, thanks to your interference all those years ago. Put me right off time-travelling. Never was cost-effective. And besides, I kept bumping into myself, and I kept giggling at me, which was unnerving, to say the least. Now will someone please tell me why I have been transported here against my will!"