I had one big happy family now. The man I was tempting, and the prostitute I loved was following him. There would be no need for side trips to see how she was doing. She was already here.

And Jesus? He had a growing number of followers.

He had a few pharisees visit him as well, mostly at night and in secret. There was one man, Nicodemus, who had a long and, to me, senseless conversation with him about being born a second time.

I simply sat next to Mikal, on her right-hand side, and watched them. While the pseudo-intellectuals talked, she plucked small yellow flowers from the ground and idly pulled their petals off.

I knew should be doing something more, but I had a good feeling about Judas, that this was a man I'd be able to work with. He wasn't enough like me that I could enter him, but I sensed an affinity there--as if he might be the sort of person I could possess some day.

And, I figured, I had a boatload of time. Jesus was only in his thirties, and with his ability to heal any illness, could easily live as long as he wanted to--though I expected he'd grow tired of limiting himself with this human form eventually.

On the other hand, maybe he'd tire of having flesh and blood next week. Who knew?

Nicodemus stood, brushed his beard and long robes. He looked troubled and uncertain. He was older, wrinkled, and the troubled frown was almost comically exaggerated by the lines in his skin.

"Come, follow me," Jesus said.

"I--I can't," Nicodemus said. "I have responsiblities here, at the synagogue. You understand. Besides, my joints would never tolerate all the walking you do."

To this, Jesus said nothing, and Nicodemus hurried off into the night.

"Seems your joints are doing surprisingly well right now, my friend," I muttered to myself.

It was an opportunity missed, though. Nicodemus would have made a nice addition to this band of misfits. I could definitely have used him to stir up trouble. My suspicion was, though, that Jesus didn't really want him and only asked because he knew the man would refuse.

Sometimes, I suspected the Son of God just enjoyed making people in power uncomfortable.

I smiled.

Antagonizing other people was one of the finest and most under-rated pleasures of being human.

This anti-authoritarian attitude was a funny one for an all-powerful being, though. Maybe Jesus' time as a human would teach him something about what it was like to be in someone else's power.

Jesus stood, walked over to me, and sat down on the ground at my right..

"What did you think of what I was talking about with Nicodemus?"

Startled, I considered the question. Most of the time, Jesus seemed so unaware of me, that I assumed he was limiting himself to mortal senses. I guess he opened up his supernatural senses rarely. But why now?

I struggled to think of something intelligent to say.

"It didn't make any sense to me," Mikal said.

I looked at her startled, and noticed that Jesus was actually looking at her, not at me.

Mikal did not look up at him. She was still pulling petals off her flower.

"Being born again has more than one meaning, but one of them is that everyone has a second chance--the ability to give up their old ways. God will wash clean anyone who asks it and let them try again."

This was more straightforward than Jesus' usual style of conversation.

What should I do? Should I try to send Jesus away from Mikal? I suspected he only wanted to help her in some way, and so I decided to simply sit where I was, watch, and listen.

Mikal laughed nervously. She still did not meet his gaze. "Not for someone like me, surely."

"Especially, for someone like you."

A forced laugh escaped her. There were tears on her cheeks. How I longed for a body to inhabit that I might brush them away--but nothing suitable was nearby.

"Many think that I have come to overthrow the Romans," Jesus said. "But that is not why I'm here at all."

At this my ears perked up. Wasn't that what the Messiah was supposed to do? Again, I didn't bother reading all the cryptic prophesies, but this was one of the tasks I'd expected him to get around to eventually.

"Um, what are you here to do?" Mikal continued to pull petals off the flowers nearby.

"I'm here to call those who are lost, to help them get their lives back on track."

To this she nodded and said nothing.

"Next time I'm discussing the word of God with the others," he said. "I want you to participate. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts."

He put his hand on hers. It was a simple touch, nothing sexual about it at all, but I saw her stiffen and draw in a long breath. Seemingly unaware of her reaction, he let go and stood.

Before he took two steps away, she said, "What use is the opinion of a woman?"

He looked down at her and smiled. "In the Kingdom of Heaven, there is no man or woman."

She looked up at him. "All your apostles are men."

Hah! Got him! Again, I wished I had a body to possess.

At this he laughed. "See? Look at how quick your mind is." He paused. "Yes, they are all men, but can I tell you a secret?"

She blinked, but said nothing.

"Please, I need your promise."

After a few seconds, she said, "Sure. I promise."

"I did consider including women among them but there will come a time when my followers will be persecuted, that the leaders of my people will be killed. When that happens, I need a group of people to keep hope alive, to keep what I have started going, a group no one will consider a threat."

This was a lot to take in. Jesus' plans were far more messed up than I thought. Here I'd been hoping he'd realize just how bad human suffering was and put an end to it all, but, all along, he'd simply been planning to increase it.

What was the purpose?

In the past, suffering had always been for the disobedient. If what Jesus said to Mikal was true, he was going to turn that notion on its head. Would he punish people for following him?

Mikal said nothing further, and Jesus walked away.

I glanced over at Mikal. There, on her lap, the flower petals were arranged in a complex pattern--my likeness. Well, the likeness of the Roman soldier I possessed when I owned her. How could anyone make such ann image with such a medium? Carefully, I studied it. Memorizing it as best I could.

Seconds later, she brushed herself off, and went to sleep with the group of women at the edge of camp.

I sat there, smiling, thinking of the image on her lap. Maybe she and I could begin again in some way. Hadn't Jesus said a second chance was always possible?