Hell’s denizens would never be nearly as organized as those Upstairs. Heaven’s rank and file were quite literally ranked and then filed, every one of them a cog in a system only those with the highest clearances could see. Together, angels were decimatingly efficient, and it was only the sheer *number* of demonic forces that made Hell any threat at all. To further split their ranks, any demon of significant power was constantly vying to unseat a current Duke and assume a place above the others. Crowley, though, had never been a creature of ambition. Love, creativity, curiosity, pride, yes. But never once had he wanted the problem of *responsibility*. He *enjoyed* being treated as a lesser demon, putting his head down and blending into the background—excepting the occasions when he toed the line a little too hard, of course, and both feet went stomping over it. Despite Crowley’s lack of desire to participate in politics, he *was* a very powerful demon. Worse, he had once been a very powerful *angel*.

A little morsel, just to whet the appetite

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