Cortin scowled at that. She'd changed her opinion of Hell, recently. A place of eternal torment no longer seemed to square at all with the idea of a just and merciful God. Purgatory still didn't bother her; of course you'd have to pay for your sins before being admitted to Heaven, but even the longest and most painful stay there would end in triumph. Hell didn't end, and if what Mike was suffering was a fair sample, its torments went beyond any punishment a human could justly deserve. Even, she thought, the ones she'd sent there believing they did deserve it. If she had it to do over again, she would, of course; the sentences she'd carried out were legally mandated, and she'd carried them out, as required, when she'd satisfied herself she'd gotten all a subject's useful information. Terrorists were a cancer on society and had to be eliminated for its health--but maybe she could use her skill to persuade them to repent. She could manage a mortal approximation of Hell, and that, even if it meant some extra time under her hands, was surely better than an eternity of the real thing! She couldn't do away with Hell, but she could certainly see that Shayan got as few of her subjects as possible! That, however, didn't solve the problem of how to help Mike. The best possibility, she was convinced, was the emotional unity sex now included, but his fear of touching made that possibility a remote one. Still, if she--or Sis, or Betty--could become one with him, show him that he wasn't fouled . . . but the only way she could think of to accomplish that was feeding him eroticine, which he wouldn't take voluntarily, and it wouldn't be right to trick him even to help him, would it? Finally deciding that she wasn't going to be able to solve the problem by herself, she got out of bed and dressed. She'd accepted an invitation to say morning Mass at the Cathedral--probably extended out of curiosity about her stigmata, she thought, but still a chance to talk about the Protector's coming and offer the Communion of Promise to civilians. Lucius/Shayan hadn't forbidden it yet, to her considerable surprise; if he didn't after today's, she'd have to do some serious wondering why. She'd decided to make it a Mass for Travelers, with Edward and Ursula, Bradford and Illyanov starting for High Teton's capital, Archangel, at noon, and she was pleased to see all of them at the Cathedral when she and her team arrived. There was no time to talk; traffic had been heavier than expected, and they were running late, so she and her concelebrants, Odeon and Bain, had to go straight to the sacristy to get ready.