As he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag, he swung the lighter around until the glint of the flame on the stones surrounding him disappeared. There, in a hollow arch, he found a torch. He lit it, knowing the gas-soaked kindling was shaved from the original cross. Jesus was the light all right, but not of the soul. Dante remembered reading the letter that Christ had sent his father. How Jesus Christ had ingested herbs to put him in a death-like coma all those centuries ago. Jesus died of cirrhosis of the liver and of terrible sex diseases he got from all of those cheap hookers he bought. Oh, to be there in 1977 for Jesus' last great binge. Dante's parents, the strange and famous mediums, had been. Dante came along a little later, just quick enough to catch all that ambient weirdness of the Eighties. He was there for the Nineties, but to be honest, he was drunk for almost the entire decade. When he finally sobered up, it was a new millennium, and the Underground wanted him back bad. It seemed that Dante just happened to know History. Not the usual claptrap one would get taught by Mrs. Jenkins in third grade. Dante knew the real history of the world. He had never even opened a book that didn't have a naked centerfold in the middle of it. He just knew. And that made him special. Dante treaded a steep spiral staircase, leading downwards. A quiet ruffling of feathers off in the near distance gave way to a pause. "Jane?" The name echoed and boomed back to him. Then, amid the almost silence, a crow's cawing erupted. From out of the damp blackness formed the woman Jane. Her skintight outfit barely covered enough of her taut body to be considered clothing, but Jane didn't mind. She rarely took her human form anyway. "Well, bugger me fiercely. Raven Jane, eh?" "Dante Kindness. The last time I saw you I shat crooked and had to have a young priest and an old priest exorcise my cunt. But you knew that right? "This is neither about your cock-port nor my beautiful testicles. This is about the Underground and what they can do." "What they can do for you, you mean," Raven Jane spat snidely. Her lips curled into a slight snarl. Her face made Dante's pants that much tighter. Jane noticed the shift in Dante's manner (and pants) and changed the subject hastily. "Still working for Mr. Sunshine?" She said the name like she had a mouthful of curdled milk. Dante looked mildly surprised in the direction the conversation had suddenly taken and then settled back into a comfortable and sheepish grin. "No, love. Now, I'm on the side of angels." "You mean angles, right?" Raven Jane slowly treaded up to Dante. Dante could feel the thick tension between them as he breathed deeply. "Well, the Underground you see, and I, uh…help them. They called me, love." Jane stared unblinkingly into Dante's eyes and noticed the sheen of the thin veil of sweat mounting itself in his forehead. "When you get your shit together, Dante," she leaned in close and whispered into his ear, "just call out. I'll be there." Dante saw Jane back up and melt away, returning to the darkness, and heard the tiny thunder of her flapping wings fade. Dante Kindness readjusted his jacket and eased back into his usual cold composure. "Crazy bird. Like I've never got it all worked out."