He was loyal to his tribe and their beliefs. He wasalso loyal to the First Warrior-Priest, and sworn to follow his commands without question.

These two things had never come into conflict before.

Baasalt's ideas had stimulated him in a way he had never felt. At first he had found them disturbing, frightening even; but the more he considered them, the more sense they made.

Feldspaar was a warrior-priest-but other than forays for sacrificial victims every few decades, he rarely saw even the chance for battle. His position was more about maintaining the status quo than conquest.

Until now.

Baasalt?he thought. They were back in the sewer tunnels, close to the Skin of the World.I have some questions.

Good. Ask them.

This game you introduced-are you preparing our people for battle?

Baasalt gave the mental equivalent of a chuckle.Very good. Yes, I am. Once our people have become accustomed to thinking in terms of the possibilities of open s.p.a.ce-instead of merely recoiling in horror at the mention of the Void-they will be ready for the next step.

And what will that be?

Seeing the Skin-Dwellers as a resource we are notfully using. Seeing the Skin of the World as a place that rightfully should be ours. Seeing that conquering the Void itself is not only possible . . .

it is our destiny.

Feldspaar could feel the rightness of Baasalt's words.

I will follow you,he thought.

So will the rest . . .

"Doyle? Did you hear that?" Cordelia said.

"What? I didn't hear anythin'."

"Are you sure? I thought I heard a noise."

"That's generally what people do with noises."

Cordelia glared at him. "Leave the sarcasm to the experts, Doyle. I'm a.s.suming you at leastunderstand the word expert?"

"That would be a fine example right there, I'm thinkin'-"

Crash!

"That, I heard," Doyle said, jumping to his feet.

"Sounded like it came from Angel's place," Cordelia said. She glanced nervously toward the elevator Angel used to get from his living quarters to his office. "What should we do?"

"Go see what it is?" Doyle suggested.

THUMP!.

"Are youcrazy?It could be some horrible demon-monster-thingy! If it's crashing around inAngel's place, ithas...o...b.. some horrible demonmonsterthingy! And fending off HDMTs in the middle of the night isnotin my job description!"

"You know, for someone halfway through a freakout, you're pretty handy with the acronyms."

She punched him on the shoulder. "It's a gift. Now go see what it is."

"Me? I thought you just said-"

"I said it wasn't inmyjob description. Since you're the guy that gets visions, obtaining information definitely falls intoyourarea. Come see me if you want paperwork filed or coffee made."

"Well, all right-" Doyle grabbed the sword Angel had been practicing with earlier off the wall and hefted it in both hands. He slid open the folding metal cage that formed the elevator door, then turned around. "But I want a fresh-brewed cup of coffee ready when I get back. Or possibly medical aid."

"I'll try to get Angel on his cell. And Doyle-be careful."

Doyle closed the cage door and hit the down b.u.t.ton.No problem. Just a cat or something. I can look like a hero to Cordy, and I can probably do it without making an a.s.s of myself.

Probably.

The lights were out, of course. He slid the cage door open and fumbled for the light switch. Nothing happened when he clicked it on.

Just a burnt-out bulb. Not a deliberately smashed light designed to set me up for the fatal heart attack I'm going to have when something reaches out of the darkness and wraps around my throat. Nope.

"h.e.l.lo? Look, if you're a burglar, there's nothin' down here worth stealin'. The man doesn't even own a TV.".

He took a cautious step forward into the dark, holding the sword over his head and gripping the handle tightly with both hands.

"And if you're a-horrible monster-demonthingy, you should know I'm holdin' a piece of steel specially designed t'lop the heads off unholy creatures o' the night. Swear to G.o.d."

The voice that spoke to him wasn't audible to the ear; it echoed inside his brain, instead.

It is foolish to lie to a telepath. We are here for our brother.

"Uh-oh . . ." Doyle whispered.

Angel's cell phone rang just as Kate was finishing dessert.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Angel? Listen, you've got to get back to the office. There's something in your apartment and I don't think it's friendly."

"Where's Doyle?"

"He went down to check it out. He's-"

Angel could hear distant crashing sounds."-definitelynot friendly," Cordelia said.

"On my way." He hung up and swapped his phone for his wallet. "Sorry, gotta go," he told Kate.

"Emergency." He tossed a few bills on the table. "Had a great time. Thanks." He turned around and bolted for the door.

Thank G.o.d,he thought.

He phoned Cordelia back as he got into the car and roared away. "I'm headed your way. Give me an update."

"Okay, well, there was a lot of crashing and banging. Oh, there's some more." Angel could hear it in the background. "Pretty sure that yelp was Doyle . . . that sounds like furniture breaking. Don't know what that m.u.f.fled thump was . . . that yell wasdefinitelyDoyle . . . okay, I think that was your china cabinet.

Wait, you don't have a china cabinet. Another, louder thump-that's weird. It almost sounded like it came from above me- Whump!

"That onedefinitelycame from overhead-"

"Cordelia, get out of the office! Now!"

There was a loudWHUMP!even Angel could hear . . . then nothing.

"Cordelia? Cordelia!"

Cordelia peeked up over the edge of her desk. The outer office was filled with a cloud of plaster dust from the large hole in the ceiling.

A figure stirred, then rose from the floor. The figure of a Tremblor.

"Iknewkeeping him in a cardboard box was a stupid idea!" Cordelia whispered into the phone. "He just Bugs-Bunnied his way into the office!"

"Excuse me?"

"He used his-his magic shoveling powers to rip his way through every floor between the roof and the office. Don't they havestairsin the middle of the Earth? He almost fell on me!"

"Cordelia, calm down. I'll be there soon. In the meantime, if you can make it outside you'll be safe."

"I don't think that's going to work, Angel. He's between me and the door-and he's just noticed me."

"Stay out of his way. He may simply want to escape."

"You're kidding, right? Well, there goes my plan to Xena his rocky b.u.t.t."

You.The touch of another mind to her own.OhmyG.o.dlookpleasedon'thurtmeIcouldn'tposs,,ibly beanytroubletoyouthoughyoucertainlyaremessingupMY eveningI'msorrysoanywaywecanbefriendsright???

The mental touch abruptly withdrew. Cordelia caught the faint impression that the Tremblor was . . .

overwhelmed?

Doyle had always hated dodgeball.

In junior high, he'd decided that h.e.l.l consisted of an eternal game of dodgeball-except instead of s.a.d.i.s.tic jocks pelting you with large rubber b.a.l.l.s, s.a.d.i.s.tic demons would do the same with red-hot boulders. It would go on and on, the demons making humiliating comments about how you ran like a girl, and every time you got beaned you would have to start all over again.

The one time in my life I get something absolutely dead right,he thought,and I don't have any money on it. Figures.

He was crouched behind Angel's overturned kitchen table, or at least what was left of it. The sword was lying on the floor beside him; at the moment it was about as useful as a flyswatter.

KRAACK!.

A large hole appeared a few inches to the right of his head. The football-sized rock that had made it punched through one of Angel's kitchen cabinets as well, and probably deep into the wall after that.

How was that?

Better. You are still overcompensating for the pull of gravity. Watch this.

Doyle flattened himself just in time. The last of the table smashed apart as the next rock hit, sailing by only inches above his head. He darted to the next piece of cover, an overturned bookshelf.

Despite the fact that overhearing their conversation had probably just saved his life, Doyle really wished they'd shut up.

See? That was called a "fastball." Apparently the proper positioning of your digits can even cause the projectile to curve in midflight.

Amazing. And you learned all this from the Skin-Dweller's mind? I had no idea they knew so much.

Oh, yes. The movement of spheres through the Void occupies a great deal of their thought processes. Here's a variation they call "bowling."

Doyle groaned, but scooted to the side. A second later, a rock smashed through the middle of the bookcase at floor level.

Cordelia waited for the Tremblor to attack or run away, but it did neither. It just stood there, its shovel-shaped tail swaying back and forth slowly behind its head.

"Mr.-um-Mr. Marlboro? You can go now," Cordelia called out. "We're dropping all charges. You made parole. You get out of jail, free."

"Cordelia!" Angel said over the phone. "Don't attract his attention!"

The Tremblor quivered, then shook himself. A low rumble filled the air.

"Oops . . ." Cordelia breathed.

The rumble increased. Books fell off shelves. The desk began to jitter on the shuddering floor.

The gla.s.s part.i.tions separating the offices shattered, as well as the windows in the outer office.Cordelia screamed and covered her head as shards flew through the air.

And just as suddenly as it had begun, the shaking stopped.

You have destroyed me.

The Tremblor stalked forward. It stopped before Cordelia's desk.I have looked into the Void, and the Void has looked into me. I cannot get away from it now. It is there every time I close my eyes.

It raised both its ma.s.sive, rocky fists.

And you will pay!

Its fists hammered down, smashing the desk into splinters. Cordelia scrambled as far away from it as she could, into a corner. She cut herself on broken gla.s.s and hardly noticed. She had to get away, to get outside- She was right next to the broken window.

Without thinking, she straddled the window sill, found the thin ledge with her foot, then climbed out. She inched her way down the ledge, praying that the Tremblor would forget about her once she was gone.

The bricks beside the window exploded outward. Cordelia screamed and nearly lost her balance. The Tremblor's spade-shaped tail jutted out from the wall it had just rammed its way through.