"I'll be back someday," he said fervently. "Don't forget me."

He loped across a flat expanse of mussel bed to the edge of a deep fissure washed by foaming surf and stood peering down into its green, semi-opaque depths. Long dark strands of kelp writhed and curled in the current. As the wave receded, the water fizzed like soda, then began to clear. He bent closer, hoping to glimpse some secret treasure trove of shells, or perhaps . . .

But something large was moving there-zooming right toward him!

Joby leapt back in alarm as it burst the surface, and found himself staring down at a brown-haired boy near his own age, whose startled expression mirrored his own! For a moment they both froze, openmouthed and speechless. Then, as another wave rushed through the trench, the swimmer plunged back beneath the surface and disappeared. When the fizzing water cleared, Joby saw no sign at all of the astonishing boy. In stunned disbelief, he began to scan the bay around him. There was nothing.

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."

7.

( Lessons in Shame ) 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?"

"Ah yes. . . . My lengthy preparations." Lucifer smiled coldly. "Had I not taken time to observe our quarry unhindered in his own element, would we have discovered his true spiritual lineage, or that of his friends? Had I bowed even then to calls for hastier action, we would certainly have missed the subtler snares laid for us in Taubolt." He swept the gathering with a challenging look. "While I appreciate the exemplary patience you've all demonstrated, I believe the time to act has finally arrived."

"Well, I second that!" huffed Trephila.

"My own exhaustive observation and analysis," Lucifer continued, pointedly ignoring her, "has revealed a few particularly useful insights regarding our target. During his furious assault on Lindwald, Joby demonstrated an unexpected and deeply encouraging aptitude for rage, which may turn out to be key. In addition, while some sympathetic resonance with their former lives seems, happily, to have them already heading down the same tragic path they followed last time, Joby's severe integrity and intense desire to be an agent of good, as our Oppressor defines it, opens him beautifully to the self-blame, perfectionism, and blind trust that helped undo him last time."

"That Arthur!" Tique laughed. "Always leaping into the fire for any pea-brained pauper with a sob story." He slapped the tabletop, grinning like an idiot. "I'm glad he's back! This is gonna be a riot!"

Fortifying his patience, Lucifer indulged the small spate of laughter that followed.

"Unfortunately," Lucifer continued when he had their attention again, "there are some worrisome pitfalls to be aware of. Despite the pervasive shallowness and cynicism we've cultivated in the world of late, the child still exhibits an astonishing capacity for imagination and faith. As Lindwald so stupidly proved, he cannot be counted upon to deny his own experience and explain away our careless slips, as most will these days, so we must still proceed with utmost caution and stealth."

"If he's so alert to the truth about us," Tique interrupted, "why not just torment him openly? It's not like anyone else would believe him if he sought help." He rolled his eyes. "All this careful skulking about is such a bore!"

"What you suggest might work, were this not Arthur returned," Lucifer said with barely suppressed irritation. "A soul like his is not broken by handing it the very adventure on which it thrives. On the contrary, the most devastating assault against a child who feels the call to greatness in his very blood is a life of relentless mediocrity. To our great good fortune, no other time or place in history better lends itself to that purpose than this one. We need do little, in fact, but smooth the boy's way of meaningful challenges until his life offers no hope at all of any least meaning or achievement."

"Smooth his way!" Eurodia protested. "We're just to spend the next twenty-five years making him comfortable?"

"This is going to be no fun at all!" Tique groaned.

"Bloody ashes!" Lucifer yelled. "I said nothing about making him comfortable! Could I have made that any clearer?"

"Well, if we're to smooth his way," Trephila demanded, "how are we to-"

"Of meaningful challenges, Trephila . . . not of meaningless miseries. That he must never be allowed anything truly interesting or important to do doesn't mean we shouldn't bury him in empty busywork and pointless obligations. While we avert any major crises in his own life, those around him ought to suffer terribly in ways he is utterly powerless to alter. Whenever he trusts, I want that trust betrayed, but only in ways too petty to pursue. His brightest achievements must never be opposed, only dismissed with empty applause followed by suffocating indifference.

"When he is reduced to ghostly impotence, defeated by no enemy he can point to but himself, left with no shred of faith in anything whatsoever or any meaningful contribution to make, despising his own existence even as he berates himself for ingratitude in the face of so many blessings, then, and only then, will I be able to remake him in our image. This is the one course our Enemy is unlikely to have anticipated. Now, does everyone understand?"

"I am so relieved!" Eurodia laughed. "You had me quite worried, Bright One."

"Beyond all this, I trust it is obvious," Lucifer continued, barely suppressing his impatience with all of them, "that having discovered our opponent's invasive coastal sanctuary, Joby must be allowed nowhere near the coast again at any time for any reason. We need waste no valuable time parsing the Creator's convoluted strategies there if they are just allowed to rust unvisited. Is that clear?"

"Do you take us for simpletons?" Tique asked.

Resisting the temptation to answer, Lucifer merely turned to Kallaystra and said, "I want you to start fanning his parents' troubles back into flame, of course. Nap time's over. Get that teacher into position, and make sure our long-suffering priest doesn't despair of Joby's eventual return to the fold. Richter still has a part to play.

"Malcephalon," he said without waiting for her reply, "I want you whispering that wise counsel you're so renowned for into Joby's ear night and day. Teach him everything there is to know about shame, self-loathing, and despair. And by all means, let's do unravel his Roundtable now that it serves no further purpose. Lindwald may be of some use to you there.

"Tique, Eurodia, Trephila. A flood of petty misfortune and frustration will be very useful now. I imagine you'll enjoy that. But remember, nothing meaningful enough to get his teeth into.

"Lindwald, your good fortune in winning Joby's confidence saved you once, but speak one syllable to him which Malcephalon or I have not dictated, and you'll grace Hell's dinner table faster than you can say, Pop-Tart. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Williamson," Lucifer said, as if in afterthought, "you may continue as our security camera."

Williamson, whose face had long ago gone purple, said nothing.