"Huh," the man grunted, examining the form with the same childlike interest he had devoted to the rest of Joby's things. Not very bright, Joby suspected. The good-looking ones never seemed to be, he thought, wondering why that was. A moment later, however, the man began writing in a lovely hand faster than Joby could credit.

When the man had handed back the questionnaire, Joby looked down to get his name, and said, "So . . . Rafe, is it?"

"Short for 'Raphael,'" the man explained.

"Great," said Joby. "Do you have a last name, Raphael? You've left that blank."

"Just Raphael," the man said, sounding concerned. "That all right?"

"Sure." Joby shrugged. He looked farther down the form, and froze. In the "Past and Present Employment" section, there was only one word written: "Angel." He felt his skin prickle, and looked back up at the man's perfect features and doe-like eyes, wondering how he could possibly have been so blind. He was about to ask the angel what it was doing here, when he paused again, suddenly unsure. This was Berkeley. Half the people living here thought they were angels, or demons, or Jesus Christ, and this was a counseling center after all. If, by some weird chance, this guy was just one more paranoid schizophrenic, Joby didn't want to say things virtually designed to inflame his psychosis.

"Well, Mr. Raphael," he said. "It says here you were, or are, I guess, an angel?"

"Yes," said Raphael soberly.

"Right," said Joby. "That's a great profession. Mind if I ask what an angel would need counseling about?"

"I'm jus' here to work on the whole independent livin' thing," the man said. He looked back toward the door. "Tha's what the sign says, right? 'Independent Livin' Skills'? Tha's the new thing out here now, but I gotta confess, it's been a very-" He turned back to Joby, looking appalled, and said, "Sorry, man. I didn't mean to say that."

"What?" asked Joby.

" 'I gotta confess,' " the man said uncomfortably. "Did that offend you?"

"Of course not," Joby said, less certain than before whether this was an angel or just a very good-looking lunatic. "Why would that offend me?"

"I don't know!" Raphael exclaimed. "Tha's just what I'm talking about. He wants us makin' all these decisions for ourselves now, but I can't even tell what's gonna offend folks anymore. This new 'everybody start thinkin' for yourself' thing is a real . . . What's that thing they all say down here? A real bitch?"

"They do say that," Joby grimaced, "but I might not use that one, if I were you."

"There you go!" the angel said, throwing up its hands.

"So let me get this straight," said Joby, nonplussed. "Angels actually need human counselors to work through independent living skills now?"

Seeming suddenly unable to contain himself, Raphael threw back his head and laughed, looked at Joby again, then bent double, laughing twice as hard. "Not too bright, huh?" Raphael grinned when he'd finished laughing. "Is that what I just heard? The heroic ones aren't either, it seems. Why is that, I wonder?"

Immediately recognizing his own earlier thoughts, Joby's face began to burn.

"That's right." Raphael grinned. "You may have saved the world a little, but don't get cocky, Rocky. You ain't the judge of me." He laughed again at Joby's reaction. "That's a good one, isn't it? 'Don't get cocky, Rocky.' Yeah, I got all kinds a good ones since I started hangin' out 'round here, man."

"I thought it was considered rude to read minds without permission," Joby said.

"That was before we started thinking for ourselves." Raphael smiled.

"So, you can't have come all the way from Heaven just to yank my chain," Joby said, trying to suppress his irritation. "Don't tell me He needs another crash-test dummy."

"Ooooh. We still a little angry, are we?" Raphael said, his brows raised.

"As you say, I may have saved the world a little," Joby drawled, "but now I find myself a little cut adrift, except for visits from the occasional comic angel."

"I see you've started working on that self-pity thing again too," the angel mused.

"Sorry," Joby sighed. "You're right. Old habits die hard, don't they? To be honest," he said wistfully, "I was kind of hoping you'd come because He did need something. I think I'd even handle being a crash-test dummy better than this boredom."

"I've come to deliver a letter," Raphael said more soberly, removing a pale green envelope from the pocket of his coat, and laying it on Joby's desk.

Joby picked it up, wondering what kind of letter required delivery by angel mail. The outside was completely blank. After a glance at Raphael to see if this was going to be another joke, Joby opened the flap and removed the single sheet of stationery inside, unfolded it, and caught his breath. He'd have recognized her handwriting in the dark.

Dear Joby, Hawk and I are together here, and miss you very, very much. Your grandfather has explained everything to us-the things you went through all your life, and what was really happening in Taubolt, and, dear God, what happened after Hawk left. It's been a lot to absorb, but I can hardly deny any of it when I'm surrounded every day now by things that seem like miracles. Am I the only one who can't pull apples from the air, or change into an animal? Hawk tells me even you can do some of these things. Is that true?

What I'm trying to say is that I wish I had known any of this, and been there when you needed me. We both do. Your grandfather says you'll understand. I know he's right.

Joby, both Hawk and I love you very much, and wish that you were here, if you wish to be. I hope you wish to be. While we're alive, there's nothing that can't be patched up, is there? I don't know what else to say. Your grandfather tells me this will reach you, though he hasn't told me how. He says I mustn't tell you where we are now, which I guess I understand, and I'm not sure we have an address at the moment anyway. But he says that you will find us.

Come find us, Joby.

I love you,

Laura

P.S. Dad, this is Hawk. I know what you chose, and I will never doubt you again. I love you too. Come home.

P.P.S. I finally know how Measure's tale ends. . . . Tell you when you get here.

"So," said Raphael, resuming his comedian routine, "y'all gonna sit here fertilizin' your self-pity, or go grab the good things you still got?"

"Where are they, Raphael?" Joby said, wiping tears from his face, clear at last about the nature of his unfinished business, and overwhelmed with gratitude. "Why can't she just tell me where they've gone?"

"Not really safe to tell you." Raphael looked around them pointedly. "The air's got ears, as you should know."

"I thought no demon could get near me now," said Joby.

"There are lots of ways to hear things without 'getting near,' " Raphael scoffed. "Even your kind can do that. And it's not your safety we're talking about now anyway. That's why they have no address."

"Then how am I supposed to find them?" Joby protested.

"Follow your heart," Raphael said. "You'll get there."

"Oh for crying out loud," Joby complained. "What, am I in the Wizard of Oz now? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what it says," Raphael told him soberly. "Follow your heart, Joby. It's got the compass. It always did. And don't forget to give Hawk Rose's message."

Joby stared at him. "So, what, I just get in my car and start driving?"

"Sounds good, and if you gonna do it, I wouldn' wait aroun' here askin' questions all day neither, beeyatch," Raphael japed.

"Are you serious?" Joby asked. "Just get in my car? Right now? . . . And just drive . . . anywhere?"

"Hey," the angel shrugged, "least you ain't got to hitchhike this time." He stood up to go. "This has been very helpful, Mr. Peterson." He smiled, went to the door, then turned and said, "I'd be goin' pretty soon, like right away then, huh? And remember what they always say: third time's the charm!" He winked and shut the door behind him.

For a minute, Joby simply stared. Then he got up and rushed to follow Raphael, unable to believe that those were really all the instructions he was going to get. But when he yanked the door back open, he found no trace of anyone.

Running to Sarina's office, he stuck his head in through her open door, and said, "Sarina, I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Okay." She smiled. "It's slow here anyway. I'll cover it. See you tomorrow."

"No," Joby said. "I mean, I have to leave completely. Maybe for a while.I . . . just didn't want to go without saying good-bye this time."

She looked at him, confused. "What? . . . Why? How long are you going for?"

"I'm not sure," Joby said, beginning to realize how many things he was walking out on. "There's not much stuff in my apartment yet, but if I'm not back in time to pay the rent, you can have it all, okay? Use it here, or just give it all away. I'm sorry to ask this, Sarina, but I don't think I even have time to go home."

"Joby, what's going on?" she said, clearly alarmed.

"I heard from Laura," Joby said.

"That's great!" she exclaimed. "But why-"

"I'm not really sure," he said, embarrassed. "It's complicated, but I . . . I think I've got to go right now. I'm sorry. Is it okay?"

"Okay," she said, looking concerned again. "Will I ever see you again?"

"I . . . don't know." Joby shrugged. He darted in to kiss her on the cheek. "You're a peach, Sarina, and you're doing a real fine thing here. It's been great to see you. Thanks for everything. Good luck! Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!" she said as he ran for the exit. "Good luck!"

A moment later, he pulled into traffic still wondering where he was supposed to go. He filled his tank at the first gas station he saw, and bought a toothbrush and some other things at the mini-mart there, then got back on the road, and headed west because the light seemed nicer that way.

He chose the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge because of its name. That took him to Highway 101, where he headed north until he realized he was driving to Taubolt. Even though it wasn't there anymore, he couldn't think of any other place to go. Taubolt was the only place this highway had ever gone that mattered.

Now what? he thought an hour later, as he approached the point where he would have to leave the highway or keep on going. It was getting on toward sunset. Standing at the off-ramp was a hitchhiker, who would be hitching in the dark before much longer. There'd been a soft spot in Joby's heart for hitchers ever since the night he'd fled to Taubolt, so he pulled over as the young man ran to meet him.

The guy pulled Joby's car door open, and they both just stared.

"Joby!" said the boy.

"Swami?" said Joby in amazement. "What on God's green earth? You're back! Has anybody told you?"

"Yeah," Swami answered glumly. "I've already been there, and I knew anyway. I just came back to make sure no one's left behind. What a trip running into you, though!"

"Tell me about it!" said Joby. "Geez, it's great to see you!" Then, recalling what Swami had been sent away to look for, Joby asked, "Did you find it?"

"Not yet," he said. "But we will."

"Well, get in," Joby told him. "I'll take you wherever you're headed now. I have no idea where I'm going anyway."

"Great!" said Swami, jumping in beside him. "Let's go."

"Where to?" said Joby.

Swami gave him an odd look. "Not really safe to give directions out here."

Joby's mouth went dry. "You know . . . where I'm supposed to be going?"

"Don't know where you were going, but I know where you should go now." Swami grinned. "They'll all be glad to see you."

"Are Hawk and Laura there?" Joby asked.

"Of course," said Swami. "Almost everyone. And you're a hero, you know."

"Why?" asked Joby. "I destroyed their town."

"More like moved it." Swami shrugged. "And you saved the Garden Coast, just like I always knew you would."

"How the heck do you figure that?" Joby asked.

"Haven't you heard?" Swami said. "That whole stretch of coast has been declared severely unstable. Nobody's gonna be allowed to rebuild a thing there now for years. Maybe never!" He grinned at Joby. "I knew somehow you were gonna save it, Joby. I just didn't guess you'd do it this way."

"Lucifer won't care whether he's allowed to rebuild," Joby said. "How does that protect the Garden from him?"

"Demons we can deal with," Swami said. "With the Creator's help, that's covered now for good. It's the people we had to worry about. Protecting the Garden on a coast crawling with tourists would've been next to impossible. But almost no one will be going anywhere near there for ages now. Taubolt's gone. Everybody thinks the place is dangerous. Who's gonna want to vacation there?"

"So where are you all going to live now that Taubolt's gone?"

"I just told you," Swami smiled, "it isn't really. Sooner or later, every flower dies and goes to seed, Joby. That doesn't mean there's no more flowers. Taubolt's just blooming somewhere else now. It wasn't just a place, you know. And even though we haven't found the Cup yet, I found something almost as good-even better in a way. Oh, and by the way," Swami grinned, "in gratitude for your heroism, the Bobs have canceled all your debts."

"What debts?"

"Here's a tip," Swami smiled enigmatically, "never tell imps you'll 'owe them.' Not even as a joke."

"Well, I'll be d-" Joby suddenly reconsidered his choice of words.

"Hawk's gonna be pretty glad to see you," said Swami. "He's started writing his masterpiece, but he's gonna need a lot of help from you."

"I don't think so," Joby said. "My son's twice the storyteller I'll ever hope to be. His grandfather saw to that."

"Don't you even want to know the title?" Swami asked.

"Sure. What is it?"

"The Book of Joby." Swami grinned.