Jackass in a Can

I awoke in a sweat, conked out in Rosiel and Naphula's arms. Rosanna and Divya tended to me, battle hardened and blades and chakra and hair bloodstained and matted from all the jackals.

"What the hell happened!" I demanded.

"You, uh… your hair grew past your waist into ringlets of black auburn, your eyes became hazel, and you looked like Mary Magdalene in that Tintoretto painting we saw of that sexy saint chica at the Smithsonian last year. You were speaking in tongues, and white light burst from your pupils…" Rosanna tried to say slowly.

Rosiel nodded to Naphula. Naphula, the lion-blonde fanged, winged demon, began: "Shannon, you are connected to Satan, but have you ever paused to consider the ramifications of being tied to the angels… and the Son of God himself?"