At that moment, Ben's heart monitor began to shriek, a loud, steady tone, and Joby heard the paramedic mutter, "Shit."

"Ben?" Joby said, his chest constricting in fear and grief.

The nurse was rushing to ready a syringe while the paramedic jammed a tube down Ben's throat. Ben began to thrash, and the nurse lunged forward to restrain him.

"Ben! Don't!" Joby yelled.

"Please stay back," the nurse insisted over her shoulder. Finished with the tube, the paramedic took over Ben's restraint as the nurse thrust her syringe into Ben's IV tube, and injected its contents. While the monitor's alarm continued unabated, the paramedic let go of Ben to prepare a set of the defibrillator disks Joby had seen on countless TV shows. Only then did Joby understand that Ben's heart had stopped.

"Ben!" Joby sobbed. "Oh God! Don't! Don't!"

No one heeded him as the disks were pressed to Ben's chest. "Clear," said the paramedic. There was a thump, but Ben continued to lie motionless, and the monitor's monotonous alarm resumed.

"Try again," said the nurse.

"Oh no," Joby wept. "Oh, Ben, please, God, please don't let me lose him now."

28.

( Tug-of-War ) Laura's sobs grew softer and finally ceased again. They'd cried themselves into a state of muffled exhaustion that now left them side by side in silence for long stretches.

By the time the helicopter had landed on the hospital roof, Joby's grief had already started hardening around his heart. Watching them unload the mangled, lifeless shell of his best and oldest friend, it had seemed possible that he would never feel anything again, until Laura had arrived. Then all illusions of emptiness had been swept aside as they'd collapsed onto a bench in the hallway, crying themselves hoarse in each other's arms before going in search of some more private place.

Now they sat alone in the hospital chapel, numbly suspended between all they'd lost and whatever would come after it. For Joby, that space was full of drifting fragments. What needed to be done when someone died? Who had to be notified? . . . Where was Ben now? . . . Had he been a coward to let Ben and Crombie go in alone? . . . Ben had sent him for the hose-given him his task outside the church. . . . No one had thought they'd die. . . . Where was Ben now? . . . Why won't you ever let her love you?

"Laura, we need . . . I need to . . ." He turned to face her, reaching down to take her hands in his.

Her face was blotched and puffy, her eyes bee-stung, her lips and chin still moist with tears and snot. And she was more beautiful to him than she had ever been before, because her grief was so much like his own, because he didn't have to tell her anything about the friend he'd lost, because at the darkest moment of a life that had known so much darkness, he was not alone, as he had been so many times before. She was right there beside him, there to touch and hold, and, for the first time he could remember, he wasn't wondering whether he should let her or whether he could be there for her too.

"I love you, Laura," he said as everything he'd ever felt or tried to feel welled up, desperate to get out before the moment passed. "I love you so much it hurts. And heals me all at once. I'm so sorry that I haven't been there like I should. I know I haven't. But I'm going to now." He began to cry again, but he didn't care. "I'm going to be there for you every second we're together. And every second we're apart, I'll be waiting to be back with you again. I've always loved you. I wanted to marry you way back in high school. I told Ben that the morning . . . I told him I was going to ask you. And then I let you go, and everything's been broken ever since. Everything." He was crying so hard now that he could barely talk, and she was crying too, but the words kept rushing out of him and he wasn't sure they'd stop now if he wished them to. "And when I found you again in Taubolt, I didn't know how to put so many broken things back together. I didn't want to give you broken things. I was afraid you'd see what I'd become while you were gone, and I felt . . . I felt like I should be so many other things for you I'd never been at all-things that had just never even been there anywhere inside me. I never should have let you go. I swear, I've never-"

Laura freed her hands, and pressed her fingers to his lips to stem the flow at last. "There are broken things inside me too," she wept. "Everybody has them, Joby. Ben had them. Arthur has them too, and most of his are my fault. It breaks my heart to know that, but broken hearts are all any of us has to give. All I've ever wanted was you, Joby. All of you. The bright parts and the broken ones, whatever's inside you. I don't care, as long as it's just really you! Ben told me months ago that I should say this to you." Her face began to twist around an effort not to cry. "But I was too afraid. I was afraid you'd leave again." She looked down, too wracked with sobs to speak, and Joby pulled her into his arms. "You're not the only one who hides," Laura sobbed. "But don't hide from me anymore. I see all kinds of good things in you, Joby. Beautiful things. They've always been there, but even if all you can see is darkness, then I'd rather have you love me with your darkness than keep hiding from me. I love you too. I always-"

Joby bent to kiss her mouth, wrapping her more tightly in his arms. She kissed him back, pressing hard against him. He pressed back, wanting her to feel the wound of love inside, the luminescent pain that surged through him healing every other pain he'd ever known. Minutes passed before they finally pulled apart.

"Oh, Joby," Laura wept, throwing herself back into his arms. "That's the first time that you've ever kissed me!"

"I'll never hurt you again, Laura," Joby said. "I know I have, but I never will again. I promise that with all my heart."

"I'll hold you to that promise," she murmured into his sodden collar. "Until the day I die."

The Triangle were not the only ones getting fidgety in Hell's conference room as everyone awaited Lucifer's new instructions. Even Kallaystra was wondering why he should keep them all here twiddling their thumbs at such a moment. Lucifer, however, just kept perusing Joby's dossier, which was stuffed with facsimiles of every piece of correspondence between Joby and his parents, or anyone else, for the past three years; transcripts of every phone call, lists of gleaned names, opinions, and anecdotes about himself or others inside the once inaccessible refuge.

"You seem upset, Tique," Lucifer observed without looking up from the document he was scanning. "Something on your mind?"

Tique's fingers ceased to drum upon the conference table, but he made no reply.

"I should think you'd feel quite good about the fact that your life may be worth a plug nickel after all, now that the ball is back in play," said Lucifer, looking up at him at last. "Why the long face then?"

"Bright One," Tique said nervously. "The boy is outside of Taubolt. Right now."

Good move, thought Kallaystra. Start dictating to Lucifer. What a numbskull!

"An astute observation," Lucifer drawled. "Your point?"

"Shouldn't we . . . be doing something?" Tique shrugged uncomfortably.

"Like what?" Lucifer asked, as if genuinely curious.

"Well . . . that would be for you to say, of course," Tique mumbled, looking everywhere except at Lucifer, "but, I just thought that, maybe-"

"Speak up," said Lucifer. "I want everyone to hear this bright idea that you're spiraling so concisely toward."

"Sir," Tique said desperately. "In Taubolt, we'll have to work confined to flesh! We'll be next to powerless! If we struck now, we could do anything we liked!"

"Another stunning insight," said Lucifer. "And again, doing what, precisely?"

"You know," Tique grimaced. "Just . . . get him somehow."

"You mean kill him?" Lucifer asked lightly. "And just scrap the wager altogether? I'd just kill you then, to begin with. What good would that do anyone? Or did you mean cripple him perhaps, just to limit his capacity to do anything that matters later on, good or evil? No? What did you have in mind? I'm all ears."

"Not him," Tique said. "I know we're not supposed to do that. But what about the woman? I mean he loves her, and she's right out in the open. There must be some-"

"So," Lucifer cut him off, "after three decades of wasted time, we're back to willy-nilly potshots, is that it, Tique?"

Just shut up, Tique! Kallaystra thought, braced for his imminent demise. Her team was small enough already. She couldn't spare even such an idiot with all there'd be to do once Lucifer declared an end to nap time. Was even Lucifer unable to think of some way to deal with Taubolt's unexpected defense? Was that what all this delaying was about?

"If I may kibitz, Tique," said Lucifer with unsettling politeness, "as gratifying as it may be to cause Joby grief, our experience to date suggests that grief alone is not enough. What we need is anger. Without anger, he won't learn to hate. And hate is what we're after in the end. Lots of it. And rather quickly . . . thanks to you and your friends."

"If we killed her, that would make him angry," Tique muttered, seeming more oblivious than ever of the precipice before him.

"But angry at whom?" Lucifer asked, as if this were some mere classroom debate.

"Her killer, I suppose. The universe? Does it matter? He'll be angry, won't he?"

"Apparently you weren't listening," Lucifer said crossly. "I said the point of Joby's anger must be hate. Who's he going to blame, Tique, if we kill Laura now, so far away from Taubolt? Some drunk driver whom he'll never see again? The universe? How's he going to act on hate like that? Who's he going to punish for it?" Lucifer no longer played at being calm. "I don't need some act of abstract evil, Tique, directed at the universe! We don't have time for that anymore! I need specific, concrete evil directed tangibly and intentionally at some very real target! I want him to hit the things that he loves most, and those are all in Taubolt, Tique, in case you haven't been paying attention! To make that happen, the people he blames can't be out here! They've got to be there in Taubolt, all around him every day, stirring the anger and building the hatred, month after month, until his loving little heart is swamped and capsizes in it! Is that clear? Drum your fingers on that table one more time, and you'll be lucky if they're all that I remove."

Tique nodded, once, in silence finally.

Lucifer went back to studying the contents of Joby's dossier again. A moment later, his calm seeming restored, he said, without looking up, "However inconvenient they've made it for us, we are going to have to work inside Taubolt, within the limitations of corporeal incarnation. That means making every smallest resource left us, every move and moment, count. Thus, unlike many in this room, I'm not going into the field until I've prepared, and I know precisely what I'm doing there."

A wave of palpable astonishment swept the room. Kallaystra barely managed not to gape. Had he just said "I"? Had he meant it figuratively, or . . .? It had been centuries since he'd condescended to fight beside any of them in the field at least for more than minutes at a time.

As if unaware of the sensation he'd just caused, Lucifer looked up and said, "Joby and his lady will undoubtedly be leaving Taubolt again soon for Ben's funeral. Kallaystra, I will spare you alone to follow them and work your special magic. The trip should provide an excellent opportunity to remind Joby of just who and what he was before Taubolt caused him such forgetfulness. Please do not dilute Joby's focus with any greater gestures though. From now on, I don't want him to associate a single disappointment in his life with any place but Taubolt.

"While Kallaystra is gone," he continued, "the rest of us will be here preparing for Joby's return to Taubolt with meticulous attention to detail, for once. I am currently compiling a thorough list of who to target there, and how."

Lucifer leaned forward, bracing both arms on the table, and swept the assembly with his disapproving gaze. "I want to make this very clear. I am not angry that, given thirty years in which to work, we are virtually starting up again from scratch four years before our deadline.

"I AM ENRAGED!" he screamed, the very walls waffling with the sound. Kallaystra sat in shocked and fearful silence as did all the others. "I once generously assumed that there were some in Hell to whom I could still delegate with confidence, but you are all worthless incompetents! So, yes, I'm going with you this time to make sure that everyone does precisely what I need them to, precisely as I need it done! Anyone who falters will be terminated instantly and replaced with someone who can do the job." He leaned even farther forward. "If that means killing every one of you and finishing this campaign alone, don't imagine I will hesitate. The outcome of this wager is far too important to me to pussyfoot around with anymore."

He turned to look directly at Kallaystra. "You may go now, dear. Good hunting."

A single officer! Agnes was incensed. Half the town burnt down, three murders, a maiming, an attempted rape, and countless acts of malicious vandalism in just two months, and Mansfield had sent just one man? This was not an answer, it was a slap!

The minute Karl had called to tell her Donaldson had been shown into the building Agnes had so generously donated, not rented, mind you, donated, for use as Taubolt's new police station, she had donned a suitably no-nonsense outfit, and come down to see what kind of superhero they'd been sent. Because that's what this officer had better be if he were going to deal with Taubolt's escalating crime wave all alone.

She stood in the open doorway, knocking on the jamb and gazing at the jumble of boxes and half-assembled furniture already cluttering the otherwise deserted space.

"Be there in a minute!" called a harried voice from the first floor's other room.

As it seemed he could not be bothered to come greet her, Agnes entered uninvited. She owned the building after all.

A moment later, a lanky, crew-cut young man came through the office's rear door, still buttoning the short-sleeved shirt of his khaki uniform. "Can I help you?" he said, glancing from his busy fingers to smile at her.

For a moment Agnes simply stared. He looked like an ROTC recruit fresh out of college! Or even high school! Not only had the county sheriff sent them just one man, that man wasn't even seasoned!

"My name is Agnes Hamilton," she said.

"Troy Donaldson, ma'am. Very pleased to meet you. Sheriff Mansfield and Mr. Foster both told me to expect you. I appreciate your loaning us this building."

"Us?" she said hopefully. "Have they sent more than one of you after all?"

"Oh. No ma'am." He smiled. "I just meant the county."

"Ah," she said, disappointed. "Well, then, Officer Donaldson, if Mansfield mentioned me, then he'll no doubt have explained that I'm the reason you are here."

"Ma'am?" the young man said uncertainly.

"I've been requesting police protection here for years," she said. "I wrote the letter that resulted in your appointment."

"Well," Donaldson said hesitantly, "I appreciate your vote of confidence, ma'am, but I'd been given the impression there's a fairly broad base of interest in local law enforcement here."

"Well, of course," said Hamilton. "I would hardly have made any such request without knowing the community supported me. Where were you stationed before coming here?" she asked, braced to learn that this was the befuddled youth's first posting.

"Up in Colby, ma'am," he said.

"In command of what?" she pressed.

"Oh no, ma'am." He smiled. "I was just a patrolman."

As she'd feared. An untried rookie. "Well, I hope you brought your ticket book, young man," she said, "because you'll find no shortage of people in need of your citations here." The look on Donaldson's face was further confirmation that he was easily confused. "While I'm sure you've heard about our recent string of ghastly crimes, the most pressing problem day to day here is our unfettered herd of juvenile delinquents."

"I saw that kind of thing in Colby too," Donaldson admitted. "Rural kids with too much time and not enough to do. They can run kind of wild sometimes."

"They congregate in front of public places every day here," Hamilton said, relieved to see that Donaldson understood at least that much, "taking great delight in intimidating customers and performing countless acts of vandalism with no fear of punishment. As the owner of numerous retail facilities here, and a leading member of Taubolt's Chamber of Commerce, I've come to request that you make bridling these noxious youngsters one of your first priorities. Particularly those with skateboards. As you will quickly see, they careen through crowds with no regard for public safety and do all manner of irreparable damage, both to Taubolt's businesses and its buildings. I assume there are laws of some kind that can be applied to stop to this?"

"Some." Donaldson nodded. "Regarding public nuisance and reckless endangerment. Loitering and vandalism, of course. Mostly misdemeanors, but that should be sufficient to curb the problem."

"Excellent!" Hamilton said, smiling for the first time. "Well, I just wanted to say hi, and welcome you to Taubolt, Officer Donaldson." She peered over his shoulder at the disorder behind him. "Is your ticket book in one of these boxes?"

"I expect it's somewhere here," said Donaldson, smiling cautiously.

"Then I'll leave you to unpack," Agnes said breezily, turning for the door.

"Well?" said Lucifer. "Have you found them all?"

"Nearly everyone on the list," Basquel said, relieved to be far enough outside of town again to disincarnate for a while. Lucifer had come with them, all right, but he'd set up his own heavily warded base camp in an isolated clearing far enough from Taubolt to avoid being trapped in flesh, as everybody else was. Privileges of power, Basquel sighed silently. "Joby and Laura aren't here, of course. They're at the funeral."

"Obviously!" Lucifer snapped.

"But I've seen Laura's child," Basquel blurted out quickly. "Hamilton and Foster have practically married, which should be useful. Ferristaff is tangling with our environmentalist, as hoped, and in considerable conflict with the local populace over logging rights to some tract of land or other. Cotter's gone, of course. But we knew that," he said hurriedly as Lucifer's frown returned. "There's a lawman just arrived in town that does not seem to be on our list. I thought you'd want to know. From what I've seen so far, at least half the town's residents are new, and when you add the tourists, the original population would seem outnumbered by at least three to one. All in all, the situation seems rife with potential."

"Kallaystra's done a decent job, it seems," Lucifer mused. "Better late than never, I suppose."

Resentful of Kallaystra's smug superiority, even in absentia, Basquel added, "There are a couple hitches though."

"Such as?" Lucifer said, instantly more alert.

"Well, I did encounter several wards during my travels around town. Obviously the work of our vile brethren's bastard race. Unfortunately, being corporeal, I was unable to penetrate them."

"So there are places we still can't see," said Lucifer. "I want such places watched, of course, 'round the clock, as soon as you find them, daily reports on who goes in or out. This damned incarnation spell is not angelic work. There's someone very, very strong in there. If we can find out who, and take them out, perhaps we can be free of all this constraining flesh."

As if you weren't already, thought Basquel sourly. "Which reminds me," he said aloud. "I've found Molly Redstone too, and you'll be glad to hear that she's convened a very useful group of local gossips who meet weekly to compare their notes on 'fairy hunting.' They're quite passionate about it from what I've gleaned."

"You're already infiltrating that group, I take it?" Lucifer said.

"They're all women," Basquel said glumly. "I incarnate as a man. The spell doesn't ask me for a preference," he added dryly.

"Then we'll send Trephila in," Lucifer said irritably. "In the meantime, I want Laura's brat observed closely for a week or two. He's become important enough to Joby to do some real damage, I should think, but I want as much data as possible before deciding how best to twist his arm." Lucifer looked morosely away, and said, "It's a damn shame about Ben. Losing Lancelot deprives us of so many useful strategies. This," he said, looking bleakly at Basquel again, "is what comes of blind potshots."

They were gathered in their sea cave hideout, warded extra heavily, as all once-simple activities were now. Demons. Real demons. Hawk had seen two bodies fall from the air himself that awful night, and he had attended the emergency conclave above Mayfield's gallery with everyone else of the blood, but he still had trouble believing it. He knew he'd have found it all very entertaining in a story or a film, but there was nothing cool about it now. Everyone was frightened all the time. No one was supposed to use their gifts at all except in dire emergencies, or to set protective wards. Basically, Taubolt's whole battle plan seemed just a long list of different ways to hide. So that's what they were doing once again today: hiding until someone came up with a better plan.

For Hawk, there was one more frustration. When their elders finally did formulate some more decisive plan, everyone would have their parts to play, except himself. He couldn't change to any other form. He could cast no power outside himself beyond the mildest moods or lures and a few weak wards. He couldn't heal people, as even Joby could, apparently, though Joby hadn't seemed to want to believe it for some reason. He had no prescience. What good was he at all in times like these? His thin blood had always chafed him, but now it felt unbearable.

When he'd voiced these frustrations to Rose, she'd just assured him that his growing abilities as a bard would do far more good out in the wider world someday than any of the "silly little tricks" she and her friends could do. But somehow, Hawk could not see himself standing heroically on Main Street, felling demons with brilliant oratory. Basically, his situation sucked.

"But Ferristaff doesn't own the land!" Sophie was complaining. "How can he file a harvest plan?"

"Jake says he's just tryin' to lure the real owners out of hidin'," Cal said. "Figures they'll come out and sue 'im or somethin' now. Then he'd put the pressure on 'em to sell."

"Sounds like something you'd do, Cal," said Jupiter.