"Wait, angels?  They're the bad guys?" she said, frowning.

"You really don't know anything, do you," sighed the cat.

"I guess not."

"Angels are...mmm...how can I put this," he said, his tail flicking back and forth.  "Angels and demons are simply labels humans have made for two different races."

"Okay."

"They are just words.  Words to which humans have given meaning.  The thing is, the humans, who are easily led, got it wrong."

"Okay."

"The demons have been here from the beginning. So have the angels.  The angels hate the demons with a passion, and never stop trying to erase them from, well, everywhere.  The demons just want to live their lives and get on with things.  The angels are top heavy with ego, jealousy, conceit and...well, you name it, and they pretty much have it.  They are nothing like the pictures in your books, or the songs your religious sects sing about.  They'd sooner bludgeon you to death than look at you."

"What about the wings?"

"THAT'S what you want to know about?  Wings?"

"Yes."

"No wings, no harps, no long white robes and curly blond hair.  No blue eyes, or brown, no cuddly smiles.  No second chances.  They are blood thirsty and war like in every way imaginable. They want to be the only ones here."

"Are you talking about the government, or the angels."

"Who do you think makes up the government?"

"I need a brownie."

"I can't help you with that.  I can't open the fridge."

She nodded.  "Want a snack?"

"Always."

"The guy I kissed?"

"Part demon.  They can be passionate and protective."

"Mr. Charles?"

"Human.  So is Mary."

"How about me?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"That's why I asked," she said, opening a tinfoil envelope of cat treats."

"You're all three."

"How is that possible?"

"How should I know?  Maybe both of your parents were half and half.  I'm not into genetics on that level.  I'm good, but I'm still a cat, and they don't let cats into medical school.  The operating tables would have to be really low to the ground, or they'd have to build platforms for us to stand on.  I mean we could probably be surgeons, or doctors, or any number of things, but the equipment would have to be redesigned."

"You don't have thumbs."

"We do not, which is what the redesigning tools of the trade thing is all about."

"Do you think that because I'm all three, that's why people think I'm the mayor of whatever this is?"

"You're actually four, but the other part is mostly extinct, so nothing to worry about."

"Should I ask about the fourth thing?"

"No."

"How can I tell one being from another?"

"Auras, eye color, body language uncontrolled rage, fangs.."

"Teach me to see them."

"Would that I could," said the cat.  "I think it will come to you on its own.  Until then, I'll just tell you what I see."

"So if there's trouble, it will come from the..."

"Angels, and their fanatical believers."

"Same old, same old," she sighed.

"You've eaten four brownies."

She looked down.  "Oh.  Thanks.  Is that wrong?"