It withdrew-and a moment later, it slammed through the wall at another spot.

This time it was a lot closer to Cordelia.

Look, guys,Doyle thought as loud as he could.There's no reason t'use me for target practice. If you want your pal, go ahead. We were gonna let him go anyway.

There was a pause in the bombardment.

Feldspaar. Stay here with the Skin-Dweller. I will fetch Maarl.

A hulking form stomped out of the darkness, silhouetted by the light filtering through the cage of the elevator. It trudged its way over to the concrete stairs, then up them. For some reason, it came as no surprise to Doyle that the demon had a pickax sticking out of the back of its head.

"So-you're just gonna wait 'til your buddy comes back and then you'll leave, right?" Doyle called out hopefully.

Not until I try a few things. Baasalt said this was called a "knuckleball" . . .

Another rocky missile smashed into the wall.

"Wait!" Doyle yelled. "Hey, have you ever heard of something called-uh . . ." He thought desperately.

Basketball? No. Football? Worse. Golf? Introducing clubs-not a good idea. Same with tennis, badminton, cricket, polo . . .

"-bobsledding?" Doyle asked.

Baasalt could feel the confusion and rage in Maarl's thoughts. It increased as he drew closer.

Maarl,he thought.Maarl, it is I. Baasalt, First Warrior-Priest. Calm yourself-you are safe.

No! I will not be calm, not ever again! All peace has been taken from me-where once was serenity and stability, all is empty chaos!

Baasalt entered the room where Maarl's thoughts emanated from. The Tremblor was punching his tail through a wall, having already made several large holes. He did not seem to care that he was gradually exposing himself to more and more of the Void.

Maarl. STOP.He broadcast as forcefully as he could.

Maarl paused. His whole body still vibrated with anger.

You have looked into the Void,Baasalt thought.I can see it plainly.

It has tainted me! Corrupted me!

No. It has made you stronger.

How can you think such a thing?

Because I, too, have looked into the Void.

What? No, it cannot be-you are First Warrior-Priest!

Touch my memories. See for yourself.

Maarl did so.

His body stiffened in shock as he relived Baasalt's experience-not just the memory of looking into the Void, but the memory of Baasalt's reaction to it. His initial fear had been swept away by an immense feeling of potential, of endless possibilities. It had thrilled him to the very core of his being, had given him the feeling he could do anything. The Void was still dangerous, still powerful-but it could be controlled.

It could bebeaten.

Do you see?Baasalt thought.Do you understand?

Maarl met his leader's eyes.Yes,he thought numbly.Great Heart of the World, yes. Forgive my weakness, Baasalt. I did not have the courage to see as you did.

You are not weak. You are strong. Can you not feel it, deep within you now? I can. You and I have faced the Void, and we are still here. We can show others our vision. We can lead them into a new era, where the Void fearsus.

Baasalt held out one rocky claw.Will you join me? Will you stand beside me in this great adventure?

Maarl did not hesitate. He reached out and grasped Baasalt's claw with his own.I would be honored, First Warrior-Priest.

Good. Then let us quit this place.

They headed for the stairs.

What I need,Doyle thought,is a plan. Specifically, a plan that doesn't involve me gettin' a rock put through my skull.

He was running out of cover; there wasn't muchleft of the bookshelf he was currently hiding behind. The Tremblor, though, seemed to have no shortage of rocks.

If I could just get t'the stairs, I could get outta here. But there's no way Roger Clemens here is gonna let me do that.Doyle's eyes had adjusted to the darkness; the light coming from the elevator cage was enough to let him make out a few details. The Tremblors had come in through the tunnels Angel normally used, and they'd brought a pile of rocks with them.

Doyle's eyes flickered over the wreckage of the apartment. He'd just had an idea-now, if only what he was looking for hadn't been smashed into bits . . .

There. Of course, it had to be lying between him and the Quake demon-and he had no idea if it had been broken.

Ah, well. Never said no to a gamble before.

Doyle dived out from behind the bookshelf, grabbed the camera and held it up. He fumbled for the b.u.t.ton while the Tremblor c.o.c.ked one ma.s.sive arm behind its head.

The flash went off. The blinded Tremblor bellowed, let fly and missed Doyle by six inches.

Doyle sprinted for the stairs.

They met at around the halfway point.

One moment Doyle was barreling up the stairs atfull speed; the next he was lying flat on his back, on a landing between floors. After a few groggy seconds, he realized he'd run into something at full tilt and rebounded.

He looked up into the face of a Tremblor.

"Uh," Doyle said.

"Doyle!Get out of the way!"

Angel's voice.

Doyle threw himself, headfirst, back down the stairs.

Angel launched himself at the Tremblor, delivering a flying kick to the demon's chest. Off-balance on the steps, it tumbled forward and crashed into the other one. They both bounced off the wall and continued downward.

Falling down a flight of concrete steps was not the most pleasant experience Doyle had ever gone through, but he didn't have time to complain. He had other things to worry about, like half a ton of living rock tumbling toward him like an angry avalanche.

He hit the bottom and rolled clear. An instant later, two Tremblors smashed into the spot he'd just vacated.

Doyle got to his feet, trying to ignore the pain of his bruised body. As long as Angel was here, they had a chance.

The Tremblors disentangled themselves and got to their feet as well.

"Angel?" Doyle said hopefully.

No response.

"Angel!" The cry came from above.

"Cordelia," Angel said. He turned and sprinted up the steps.

He ran into the office and stopped. There was a huge hole in the ceiling, all the gla.s.s was smashed and Cordelia's desk was a pile of kindling. There were also a half-dozen large holes punched in one wall-and no sign of Cordelia.

"Angel!" The voice seemed to be coming from outside. "Get me down from here!"

Angel stuck his head out the window. Cordelia was about fifteen feet away, standing on a narrow ledge with her arms flat against the wall. She looked terrified.

"Cordelia, I'm here-are you all right?"

"Am I all right? What does it look like? Get me down!"

"Can you hang on just a moment?"

"What? No! Where are you going?Angel!"

"They're gone," Doyle said. "Didn't seem too interested in me once they had their buddy. Can't say I'm disappointed."

Angel looked around the remains of his apartment. "Now I know how the Serpentene feel," he said.

"Except your pockets are not quite as deep."

"I'll worry about that later. Right now, we have an a.s.sistant to rescue."

"Just don't look down," Doyle said.

"Why does everyone always say that when someone is stuck someplace high? Do you think I'mstupid?

Of course I'm not going to-" She looked down."EEEEEEE!"

"Cordelia!" Angel snapped. "Look at me. That's right. Now move toward me, slowly."

"What do you mean, move toward you? What are you waiting for?Youmove towardme!"

"All right . . ." Angel took the rope Doyle handed him and climbed out on the ledge. He started inching closer to Cordelia.

"What are youdoing?"Cordelia demanded.

"I'm-saving you?"

"Right! So make with the wings already!"

"Wings?"

"Okay, maybe you don't have wings, but do whatever you do-flap your trenchcoat or something!"

"Cordelia, I can't fly."

"What? What do you mean, you can't fly? You're a vampire! Vampires can always fly!"

"That's a common misconception. We don't turn into bats, either."

"I amnevergoing to get all these rules straight . . ."

Angel stretched out his arm. Cordelia edged toward it-and stepped on a loose bit of rubble. It shifted just enough to make her lose her balance.

She fell.

CHAPTER NINE.

"You'restronger than you look," Cordelia told Doyle. "I'm surprised you could haul both of us up."

"I'm just glad Angel managed to snag you before you hit the ground," Doyle said. "Though it's really Angel's fashion sense we have to thank for the happy endin'."

Angel was examining the armpit of his coat critically. "I think you popped a seam," he muttered.

"Well, I had t'grab somethin'. A handful of trenchcoat was the best I could do. Anyway, if anybody should be complainin', it's me," Doyle said. "You nearly Wiley Coyote'ed me with that stunt with the Boulder Brothers." He dumped the broken gla.s.s off a chair and sat down. "And then there's the one the Tremblors pulled on me. Seems they have a trick that none of your books mentioned, probablybecause they were all written before Abner Doubleday was born."

"Who's Abner Doubleday?" Cordelia said. She opened the first-aid kit and took out some peroxide.

She started dabbing it on a cut on Doyle's forehead.

"The guy who invented baseball," Doyle said. "Seems the Tremblors are big fans, except they prefer t'use stones the size of cannonb.a.l.l.s instead of the ol' horsehide. That, and they seem t'be a little unclear on the difference between 'pitching' and 'ma.s.s destruction.' "