***

It's not hard finding the location of the CooL church using my smart phone. I skimmed their website and didn't find much information beyond service times and that they use different names for CoL classes than I'm used to. The site also has the address listed. I could have just checked out any number of the billboards around the city that read things like "It's time to get CooL!" or "Jesus was a SavioR Class! Hallelujah!"

I find a nice secluded alley to shift in, making myself masculine again but younger than normal. I opt for about nineteen or twenty years old, thin and reedy, with slightly longer brown hair not shaved anywhere.

I shift my clothing again so I'm not dressed like a thirty five year old. Then I call up a rideshare while I'm walking. The driver has no idea who I am which is the point of having shapeshifted. I don't look like I did at the nightclub at least; neither of the human faces I used last night nor the fleshbeast form I had. I do get a bit of a look when he drops me off in front of the CooL church but he takes my cash tip and doesn't say a word.

The church is a big red brick building that seems oddly shaped to me, which is saying something coming from a person who can basically become any shape they want.

It's like the whole thing is sideways compared to how a sensible person would set up a church with the focus being one of the corners instead of a wall. Huge stained glass windows sit at right angles to one another. There's no bell tower or spire on the angled roof.

The thing reminds me of a giant metal taco sitting on a wedge of red velvet cake covered in candy chunks. There are certainly some buildings I have thought of becoming, this is not one of them. It looks pretty bad.

I hunch my shoulders up and duck my head down with my hands in my jacket pockets. There are a few vehicles in the parking lot and the front door is open. I make a point of looking like I'm not sure I should be here. Like I'm scared and lost. Someone inside spots me.

"Excuse me, young man," a masculine voice says. "Can I help you?"

I glance up to see the bearded face of the attacker from the nightclub last night, albeit with darker hair that's peppered with gray and more weather worn skin. They're not wearing a white suit. Instead, they wear workman's coveralls marred by green grass and dark oil stains. Their bearing is completely different. They're hands are knobby and skin a bit leathery and thick.

This is a person who does manual labor, who works hard to keep things other than themself clean and functioning.

Does this person know their face has been all over the news?

"I...need help," I say nervously. "I saw the billboards and...yesterday...I..."

The maintenance guy's eyes get a bit wider. "Oh, my boy, come with me. I'll take you to Pastor Ezekiel. He will be able to help."

I let them wrap an arm around my shoulders and go with them into the church. The inside is chilled by the air conditioner going full blast. I wonder if these people took the name 'CooL' literally as what the temperature the building should be as we pass through the front lobby area into a wide hallway that curves away from us on either direction. I really hope the corner with the windows isn't the only right angle in the whole place.

Ahead of us is a pair of large double doors with a decorative wooden table next to them that's covered in fliers. The maintenance guy releases my shoulder and quickly picks over the table before picking up a few of the papers. They hand them to me with a pained smile.

"These may help," they say.

They wrap their arm around my shoulder again to direct me where to follow. This guy is shaking. Do they know who I am? Are they just frightened because their face was on the news? Is there something else going on I'm not aware of? Do they just not like this building as much as me?

We walk down the curved hall past another set of double doors across from an entrance to a restroom, and then finally reach a much more fancy carved wooden door that's also taller than the others. The maintenance person releases my shoulder and hesitantly knocks on the door three times. Then realizing they hadn't knocked very hard they do it again more loudly.

It's not me this guy's scared of, is it?

"What is it?" A clear voice like a bell, complete with reverb, asks from beyond the door.

"Pastor Ezekiel," the maintenance person begins, "there is a child here to see you, sir."

I do not miss the emphasis of the word 'child' nor do I miss that the person with the beard is shaking even more now. I want to ask if they're okay, but the part I'm playing, the scared young man who just developed supernatural shapeshifting powers, wouldn't ask.

He'd be scared too. I make sure I also jump when the door opens. A seven and half foot tall person stands in the doorway, then bends down a little before shifting to be just small enough to fit.

They've got softly wavy golden hair, glowing blue eyes, pale skin like porcelain, white slacks, shoes, and a white dress shirt with a white necktie. The hair looks to be threads of actual gold that shines brightly on its own, but really becomes obnoxious when a ring of light pops into existence above the person's head.

"Pastor Ezekiel will help you," the maintenance person says quickly. "I should get back to work."

"Please, do come in."

I wait outside the room as the pastor goes back into what I can now see is an office. Then I put on a brave face to follow.

"I am Ezekiel. I believe most people your age have been asking about pronouns. It seems rather silly, but I will oblige you to know I am male," he says.

"Me too," I reply weakly.

"I gathered that," Ezekiel says. "Please, close the door."

I do as he says and make sure to mimic the shakes the maintenance man had while I shut the door.

"Please, do not be frightened," he says with a pleasant smile. "I know my countenance can be overwhelming for most, but it is simply my true nature as a Seraphim."

"Seraphim?" I ask, still standing by the door.

He gestures to the crumpled fliers in my hand. "I believe you hold the answers in hand already, but I will explain nonetheless."

I glance down to the papers before looking back up to Ezekiel.

"I am a Seraphim," he says. "Which is to say I am the second most powerful Child of our Lord who can exist. The most powerful, of course, is our Lord Jesus Christ. One would call Him a Class SR and myself an S."

Oh fuck.

This was not on the website. Is he really a Class S? Was the person last night wearing a white suit to pin things on this guy?

"I..."

I really don't know what to say or do at this point.

Ezekiel walks around his desk to sit in a chair that seems over sized despite him being at least six and a half feet tall. He points an open hand to a big leather seat on the side of the desk near me.

"Please, have a seat, young man," he says.

My shakes are a bit more real as I stumble a few feet before sitting. I grip the fliers in my hands crushing them more.

"I know this can be very overwhelming," Ezekiel says. "When I first awakened to my gift it was very...moving."

I look up at him nervously. "How long have you had...been..."

He smiles warmly. "Ten years."

Why have I not heard of this guy?

"I read some about the...Class S's that have been...studied," I say disjointedly. It's not hard to let my unease come through.

"It is most unfortunate that those heathens have, as of yet, commanded the discussion on our powers," Ezekiel says with acid in his voice. It's no longer quite as pure and ringing. The bell has cracked. "But, as God has planned we are here to guide new children such as yourself. Please, tell me. When did you gain your powers? How did you know?"

"Yesterday," I say. "I was on the way home and my hair changed color."

He tilts his head slightly. "Show me."

I shut my eyes. It's something I've seen some younger CoLs do when they first get their powers. The less powerful, less experienced, need to focus and try harder at what they're trying to change.

I slowly alter my hair color to make it light purple. Then I open my eyes and make a show of checking the tips of my hair to make sure it's shifted.

"Very good," he says. "I'm sure you'd like to learn to do more, yes? Perhaps even something like this?" Ezekiel points up to his halo.

I nod.

I have no idea how he's doing that. It shouldn't be possible to shift something that's not touching yourself. Clothing is pushing it and it has to be specially made. Took us forever to get it to work.

He smiles, his voice once again sickly sweet and ringing, "The books you may have read have been filled with lies and misinformation, my son. The Children of our Lord can show you how to advance your class. Be you initially a Devout, Chosen, Blessed, or Angel, all can become Seraphims."

That is bullshit.

"How?" I ask.

His smile grows. "By following the Lord and His teachings."

I gaze at the fliers in my hands as if I'm actually considering it. There's no way to increase one's abilities when it comes to CoL powers. We've tried that for ten years. Nothing works.

Some people have gained more experience and skill using their powers but if there's something they can't shapeshift into then that's it. I've seen so many Class A's tire themselves out trying to do what I can.

"Our next service is tomorrow evening at six thirty," Ezekiel says. "You're welcome to attend."

There's a knock at the door. I make sure to jump.

"What is it?" Ezekiel asks loudly, less pleasantly than before.

"Pastor Ezekiel," the maintenance man begins. "Someone else is asking to see you."

He smiles at me as he gets up then motions with his hands for me to stand. "Please, if you have any questions feel free to come back."

I stand and clutch the papers like a life preserver. Ezekiel gestures for me to go to the door with him, which I do. I need to know what I'm up against. Just before he reaches for the knob I ask one final question.

"How many Seraphims are there here?"

He cocks an eyebrow.

"At present? There are three," he says with a smile of teeth that are so white they don't merely seem to glow, they actually are glowing. When he closes his lips I can still see the light through his alabaster skin before it fades.

How obnoxious. I do not trust this guy.

As Ezekiel opens the door I'm shifting my inner ears to make them more sensitive. I need to look for any clues while I'm in the building. If Patrick is here maybe I can hear him.

They'd be idiots to keep him in the church but it's worth checking. I can hear people shuffling around the building but nothing that sounds like a kidnapped child, nor his dog. There are also some birds nesting under the eves of the back portion of the roof and some large roaches in one of the exterior walls that I hope isn't near the kitchen.

"Excuse me?!" The person on the other side of the door shouts in a deep baritone that makes my modified ears ache. "Are you the guy in charge here?"

I try not to stare at the large black person in front of me. Tall, muscular, masculine, a short fuzzy beard with hints of gray at the sides. I'd think it was a stranger if she wasn't wearing the same gray and pink sweats I last saw her in.

"Why yes," Ezekiel says. "I'm Pastor Ezekiel. I oversee this church, however, our lord Jesus Christ is the real one in charge. How may I help you?"

Eterna blinks a few times and shakes her head. "You've got to do something about those billboards. They're all over the city. They're an eyesore."

"I will keep that in mind," Ezekiel says.

I don't know what to do. Eterna's blocking my exit and she's obviously reached the end of whatever her plan was. I really hope she doesn't try fighting this guy. I have no doubt he really is a Class S. It's even possible he's the one who attacked the nightclub last night. Sure, there's not many people in the building right now, but I'd rather avoid a fight.

While I don't trust Ezekiel it's still possible he isn't the one who attacked and is being set-up by someone else. Either way a fight here would only make things worse.

"Uh...Mister," I begin shakily. I'm not short at the moment but Eterna is still a bit taller than me. "I need to go home."

She looks down at me with some confusion. Then a bit of realization crosses her face. I take it she's not used to being addressed as a man. Eterna nods and backs up.

"Sorry, kid," she says.

I leave the office quickly. As I travel down the curved hallway to the exit I'm silently praying to Loki and any other gods who may be listening that Eterna isn't about to start a fight.

If she does I'll break my cover and step in. I'm hoping she's smart enough to leave. I keep my hearing sharp enough to catch what's going on behind me.

"We will consider your concerns regarding the billboards," Ezekiel says, his voice sickly sweet.

"Good!" Eterna huffs. "That works!"

I'm going down the steps when I hear her start pounding down the hallway where I had just been. I stuff the papers into my jacket pocket and pull out my phone like I'm looking for a ride while I keep walking. Behind me Eterna emerges from the building. She doesn't follow me directly, which surprises me.

Did she not realize who I am?

And if she didn't, then how the Hel did Martin Aaron know I was the person he'd tried to kill?

I look up and see Eterna disappearing over the edge of a hill down the street. I'd call her but don't want to risk that someone from the CooL church is watching us. If I made a call and she answered it wouldn't take long for someone to connect dots I wish weren't there. I sincerely hope she's going home, because that's where I'm heading.