The Book of Joby (25 page)

Where could he have gone—or
come from
? What was he
doing
there? The water was
freezing,
and he’d been wearing almost nothing!
Had he drowned?
Twining strands of panic tightened around his gut. Joby was about to run for help when something splashed to the surface hundreds of feet away near a small cave mouth at the base of one of the bay’s towering rock stacks. It was the boy! He bobbed on the surface, staring at Joby with a worried expression visible across the distance. Then he dove again and vanished . . . like a
seal,
Joby thought in utter wonder. How could
anyone
have swum that far so fast, without even coming up to breathe?

For a long time Joby simply stood and stared out at the bay, wondering if the boy would reappear. But he did not, and Joby realized that the sun had risen, and his parents might wake at any moment. A boy who could swim like that was not in any danger of drowning. He turned and raced for the cliff-side trail, hoping his absence had not been noticed—even by Benjamin. He couldn’t imagine how he’d explain what he’d seen to anyone—not even his best friend—and he didn’t want to have to try.

Gabriel and the Creator sat on a bench near the band shell in Golden Gate Park; two ragged transients feeding an aggressive crowd of sparrows and pigeons from a greasy dollar bag of stale popcorn. Lucifer was late.

When he finally arrived, dressed to the nines as always, he walked up, intentionally scattering the birds.

“With all due respect,” he drawled, “may I ask that You dispense with the bird feed, Sir? I have no wish to be shat upon at the end of
this
conversation.”

“Lucifer,” the Creator replied amiably, “it’s lovely to see
you
again too.” He tossed the remaining popcorn onto an overfull trash can behind the bench, where the birds set upon it instantly. “We were only trying to amuse ourselves while we
waited
.”

“Traffic,” Lucifer said blandly as he joined them. “I hope you two didn’t get all dressed up on
my
account. Is that what passes for
holy raiment
these days?”

“Your invitation took us by surprise,” the Creator apologized. “All our good clothes were in the wash. But you can’t have called us here just to critique our sartorial image.”

“No, I did not,” Lucifer replied, looking away with disdain. “It seems that our boy, Joby, has vanished on his way to someplace that doesn’t exist. In fact, his entire family and a little playmate seem to be gone as well. I mean, really
quite, quite gone.
” He looked frostily at the Creator. “A rather remarkable achievement for mere mortals, wouldn’t You say?”

“If you’ve an accusation to make, Lucifer, please make it,” the Creator answered.

“You cannot just
remove
him from the game whenever it looks like he’s
losing
!” Lucifer snapped.

“Careful. You’ll scare the birds,” the Creator said, glancing back at the trash can. “Besides, it didn’t look to Me like he was losing. I’d say he’s been doing better than ever. Wouldn’t you, Gabe?”

Gabriel nodded.

“Our agreement states quite clearly that
You
will not intervene in any way,” Lucifer rasped, “and that Your servants be commanded to refrain from intervention too!”

“
Unless
he
requests
their assistance.” The Creator turned to Gabriel. “Isn’t that right, our official witness?”

“It is,” Gabriel confirmed.

Facing Lucifer, the Creator asked, “Are you
certain
Joby made no such request?”

Lucifer glared at his Lord with naked ire. “
Did
he?”

“No.” God smiled.

“Then
how
do You explain—”

“I assure you, it was completely coincidental. Joby and his family happened to cross a barrier that has nothing whatsoever to do with our wager.”

“Coincidence!”
Lucifer shouted.
“You expect me to believe that?”

The birds scattered nervously before hesitantly returning to finish their feast.

“Do you suggest I lie?” the Creator asked quietly.

With obvious effort, Lucifer reined in his temper.

“If you
are
suggesting such a thing,” the Creator continued dangerously, “I would be happy to convene a full celestial court, and try the matter. . . . If you’re proven wrong, of course . . . Well, you know the consequence as well as I do, and it wouldn’t be very sporting of Me to win our wager
that
way, would it.”

“What
coincidental barrier
is this?” Lucifer demanded more moderately.

“It’s none of your business.” The Creator smiled.

“If it’s
on this earth
it’s
my business
!” Lucifer spat. “You
gave
this planet to
me
!”

“Lucifer, really,” the Creator scoffed good-naturedly. “Do I seem easily confused? I gave
you
to this planet, if anything, and told you to do as you like. That hardly constitutes
giving
you—”

“What the hell is Taubolt?”
Lucifer shrieked, literally purple in the face by now. Startled by his outburst, the entire flock of sparrows and pigeons around the trash can burst into flight above them. “If the
candidate
has gone there, then I’m
entitled
to know what’s going on!”

“It’s just a little place I set aside several centuries ago,” the Creator replied sternly, “so that a few lucky people could live and die without having to endure your handiwork. I certainly didn’t
send
Joby there. Nor did anyone I command. He just happened to go. Life’s funny that way. Our agreement does not even
suggest
that I must suspend all My operations elsewhere. I admit that Taubolt’s guardian did yank your sorry bugging device off poor Joby’s back on their way in; but
not
at My command, nor, as far as I know, with any knowledge of who Joby even is. Keeping you and yours from Taubolt has been his job for centuries. If you don’t like that, you can take it up with him. He’s a very reasonable fellow. Name’s
Michael.
”

Lucifer grew pale, though whether from fury or fear was anyone’s guess.

“Oh! But you’ve met him, haven’t you,” the Creator said without smiling. “Well, as I said, you’re welcome to fight it out with him, but I’m staying out of it, just as I’m
supposed
to.” He turned to Gabriel. “Isn’t that right, our official witness?”

“It is,” said Gabriel.

“It . . . is not
fair
to place Michael between me and the boy,” Lucifer quavered, “no matter
where
he is, or
why.
”

“Not
fair
?” the Creator observed, sounding incredulous.

“You
promised
the boy would be free to choose for himself,” Lucifer insisted tremulously. “How can he choose, if You hide him where no choice exists but You?”

“Ah,” God said quietly, “you’ve got a point.” He paused reflectively. “But the issue is moot now in any case. Mortal vacations are brief things, and I’m confident that Joby will be well within your reach again by this very evening.
If
he ever returns to Taubolt, Michael will not stop your servants from following. Until that day, however,
if it ever comes,
you’ve no more entrance there than you ever did. Our wager has nothing to do with Taubolt unless Joby is there, so don’t even try to find it. Is that clear?”

“I still insist that this entire affair is outrageously inappropriate to the spirit of our agreement.”

“Have your lawyers talk to My lawyers,” the Creator drawled.

Gathering the remains of his dignity, Lucifer leaned forward to tug his pant cuffs up and saw the bird droppings spattering his knee and shoe.

“Pity,” the Creator said soberly. “That fit of shouting a while back; seems you scared the crap out of them.” He shook his head sympathetically. “Such nice clothes too.”

Malcephalon was the first of Lucifer’s council to arrive. A dark mist seeped across the threshold, flowing like sump water down the length of the room before swirling sluggishly up into a chair at the opposite end of the table. Black vapor poured across the glossy tabletop, resolving into sinuous gray arms, then crept in viscous cascades up the chair back, thickening into dark robes and, finally, the long gray face that Malcephalon had donned and never abandoned after their fall from grace. The demon’s stony black orbs focused down the table’s length to fasten upon his ostensible superior.

“Here already, Bright One?” he murmured balefully. “Well . . . I share your eagerness after such . . .
lengthy
preparation.”

To Lucifer’s knowledge, Malcephalon had
never
smiled since their defeat in Heaven. Kallaystra claimed to admire the demon’s subtle mind, but it still surprised Lucifer that such a lovely, vivacious creature should befriend this sack of ashes.

“Greetings, Bright One!” Kallaystra trilled, materializing in the chair next to Malcephalon. “So, the hunt is to be unleashed at last!”

“Yes, Kallaystra. I’ll not spoil your
momentum
any longer.”

Before she could reply, a rude gasp issued from the empty air halfway down the table, followed by an even ruder curse.

“You’re crushing me, you cow!”
snarled a disembodied baritone voice.

“You’d be easier to avoid if you weren’t sitting in my chair!”
retorted a shrilly feminine one.

“I was clearly here first!”
grunted the male voice in outrage.

“I’m sick to death of your eternal bickering!”
rasped a third voice.
“There are five other chairs at this table
.
Why don’t you both just take one of those
?
”

The Devil’s Triangle, as they were known, appeared then, all piled into the same chair. A skinny, wan, and pockmarked fellow struggled beneath an obese and shrew-faced maiden with dirt-smudged clothes and wild, fiery
hair, while an emaciated crone, little more than a jumble of sticks in a long shroud of rotten lace, rode the struggling heap.

“You only sat in this one because you knew I wanted it, Tique!”
shrilled the maiden squirming between them.
“And you only want it,”
she screeched at the crone on her back,
“ ’cause I’m already sitting here, Trephila!”

“Age before beauty, you impudent sack of flab!”
replied the crone, her voice a thin fugue of rusty hinges and wrenching nails.

It was all an act, of course, in which they never ceased to find amusement.

“Stop disgracing yourselves,” Lucifer commanded wearily. “Or has the Enemy Himself sent you here to ensure our failure?”

“Now see how you’ve both embarrassed us,”
Eurodia whined.

“Us?!”
her companions protested in unison.

Without transition, the uncouth trio were transformed into three neat, attractive individuals seated side by side in amiable silence. Tique was now a trim and handsome youth in clean white samite; Eurodia a slender Celtic beauty in dark velvets and bright satin ribbons; and Trephila an image of regal splendor, robed in sparkling lace, her shining silver hair elegantly coifed.

“Better?”
Trephila asked with arch dignity.

“Much.” Lucifer rose and went to place his hand against the room’s large obelisk. “Williamson,” he said. “Lindwald. Join us.”

At the appearance of Lucifer’s once-human operatives, Eurodia said, “What is
this lot
doing here? I thought this was to be a
serious
council.”

“Even lowly functionaries must remain on the same page as the rest of us,” Lucifer retorted. “Have we not seen the littlest bugs derail the largest endeavors?”

Trephila sniffed contemptuously as everyone frowned or looked away in disdain.

Lucifer leaned back imperiously in his chair. “Have we any
other
concerns to air before getting started?”

“Bright One,” Malcephalon ventured morosely. “I trust I will not offend by asking why the child’s Roundtable escapade has been allowed to go on so long. Has this not left him somewhat
strengthened
?”