The Book of Joby (8 page)

Seeing the obvious distress this caused Lesterman’s remaining teammates, Lucifer drawled, “Calm yourselves, gentlemen. I know we all abhor waste here, but Lesterman will still have ample opportunity to be of service.” He smiled unpleasantly. “Even here, folks have to eat . . . don’t they?”

His amusement soured as he noticed the chunky one called Lindwald salivating rather conspicuously at the idea of dining on Lesterman.
Oh, God,
Lucifer groaned mentally. To be free at last of these revolting maggots!

“On second thought,” he told the two remaining functionaries, “I don’t think I can endure any more of your genius just now. Someone must survive to do the footwork, after all, so I’ll just spell it out for you.

“You’re fairly new here, Williamson, but Lindwald’s been around long enough to understand how rudely we’ve been surprised on previous occasions just when we were sure of victory. Though some of those reversals seemed utterly unexplainable, I’ve never been able to
prove
the Enemy’s unlawful interference, which leaves us to assume that the devious Deity is able to anticipate our strategies impossibly far in advance—or has somehow booby-trapped virtually every aspect of creation itself. Any questions so far?”

The two damned souls shook their heads in perfect unison.

“Therefore, we must begin with meticulous observation,” Lucifer continued, “followed by patient, careful execution. During this initial phase of our campaign, the candidate must perceive our presence no more than the hare perceives the circling hawk. We must test him, but do nothing major—
nothing,
you understand—until we have grown to know his fears and insecurities as well as what he
doesn’t
fear; what he loves, and what he hates; his dreams and ambitions—especially his ambitions; his favorite and least favorite colors, foods, smells, sounds. Anything—
anything
—might tip the balance.

“That’s why you’re here, Williamson,” Lucifer continued. “My attention is required in too many places to be watching the child eat and sleep and piss
at all hours. That will be your job. Report
everything
to me. I want you to dust off every least skill acquired during that illustrious career in advertising, and research this boy like you never researched any market in your lamentably brief life. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir,” Williamson replied. “When I’m finished, your biggest problem will be choosing which of the available buttons to push for the desired result, Sir.”

“That may be
your
biggest problem,” Lucifer replied. “
I
will have no problems at all. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly, Sir.”

After an uncomfortable silence, the fat one, Lindwald, cleared his throat softly, and asked, “What about me, Sir?”

“I think that you, Lindwald, may finally be ready to enter the fourth grade.”

“Quick, Sir Benjamin! Up the castle wall!”
Joby raced to scramble up the live oak tree that spread its old arms over a quarter of their backyard. “The dragon can’t get us up there. We’ll make a new plan!”

“How come it won’t get us?” Benjamin asked, racing after Joby. “Can’t it fly?”

“It broke its wing!” Joby shouted without slowing.

“How’d it break its wing?” Benjamin pressed, waiting impatiently for Joby to climb above the first branch so he could follow.

“It tripped on my underwear!” Joby answered in exasperation. “Don’t ask questions, Sir Benjamin! Just
climb
! You wanna get us both eaten?”

From inside the house, Miriam watched the elaborate play of little muscles across the small bare backs of her son and his new friend as they scrambled up into the tree’s higher branches and fell into earnest conversation. She was still astonished at how quickly they had fallen head over heels into friendship. An after-school fight over some trivial violation of boyish honor had brought them together. Benjamin had bloodied Joby’s nose, Joby had blackened Benjamin’s eye. Two days later, Joby had knighted Benjamin on King Arthur’s behalf, and they’d been inseparable ever since. Boys, she thought with a smile. Go figure.

Besides the boundless energy native to most children, they shared a natural athleticism, vivid imaginations, and a predilection to laugh at anything with the least potential for humorous interpretation. But, while Joby was a born leader, Benjamin was content to follow, constantly asking questions
for which Joby happily invented answers. While Joby talked, laughed, and decreed incessantly, Benjamin tended toward thoughtful silences. Even their appearance was day and night. Deeply tanned, with large brown eyes and nearly white-blond hair, Benjamin seemed a golden noon beside the lunar radiance of Joby’s pale skin, blue eyes, and midnight locks. Miriam always enjoyed seeing them together. They seemed two halves of some marvelous whole.

“Hey you,” Frank said softly, coming up to give her a squeeze.

“Have a good nap?” she smiled, still watching the boys.

“Best nap I ever had—since the last one.” His eyes followed hers. “Those two spend half their lives up there. Think we should build ’em a tree fort?”

“Let’s not encourage them,” she said. “Half the time, they don’t even hold on to anything.”

“Boys are climbers,” Frank smiled, “and not half as fragile as us old folks. We don’t want to make a wimp out of him.” He squeezed her again. “Worst thing could happen to a boy. Lot worse than fallin’ out of a tree.”

“I’m sure you’re right, dear,” Miriam said, turning with a flirtatious smile to slide her arms around his waist. “Maybe we should find him a sister, so I’d have another wimpy girl to keep me company.”

“Mmmm,” he purred, leaning in to kiss her. “Wanna twist my arm?”

Going through Williamson’s first report, Lucifer had to admit that a few of his observations might be useful, though he had no intention of saying so. One shred of acknowledgment was all it took to render such creatures utterly unmanageable.

He went to the transmission obelisk beside his office door, placed a hand on its glassy surface, closed his eyes, and focused on a name.
Kallaystra . . . Kallays—

“Bright One?”

Lucifer opened his eyes to find Kallaystra standing serenely at his side, looking, as always, like the wholesome ingenue she wasn’t. Along with its fiery fantasies of Hell, the mortal world seemed to forget that demons were nothing more or less than angels swept to earth with Lucifer after their failed campaign against the Creator. Driven by rage or despair at their devalued state, some had fallen into madness, making themselves animal and ugly, or wandered off to become solitary rogues. But many, like Kallaystra, had remained as lovely as ever—on the surface at least. Kallaystra was one of very few, however, who still came readily when Lucifer called, one of even fewer
he still dared rely upon. That, and the fact that she was an immortal being like himself, not some damned flake of once-human dryer lint like Williamson or Lindwald, earned her a very different degree of courtesy.

“Thank you for coming so swiftly, Kallaystra. I hope my summons didn’t interrupt anything of import.”

“Only boredom, Bright One. They are dull to watch.”

“The boredom you endure magnifies my gratitude. What do you make of them?”

“The boy is certainly bright, but hardly so remarkable as many of his predecessors. The parents seem utterly mundane. Had bitter experience not taught us otherwise, I’d think all this caution wildly excessive.”

“As it would be,” Lucifer conceded, “had our Oppressor less power to complicate even the simplest endeavors. Someday I will catch Him meddling, and make Him pay.” The idea made him smile. “This would be the very wager to force by default!”

“Would it?” Kallaystra asked. “You still haven’t told me what the stakes
are
this time.” She gazed at him inquisitively.

Caught off guard, Lucifer hesitated. He could hardly tell her that if he won she and all of Hell’s other inmates would be eliminated with the rest of Creation.

“I . . . don’t want this widely known, Kallaystra, for I’m testing loyalties; but as your faith is well proven, I’ll trust you with a secret, just between the two of us. Agreed?”

“Of course, Bright One,” she replied, eyes agleam with the delight conspiracy always brought her.

“You’ll remember that little war some time ago, in Heaven. . . . The one we lost.”

“What of it?” she said flatly. It was considered poor manners to mention it.

“Perhaps you’ll forgive me for bringing it up when I tell you that, should I win this wager, the outcome of that contest will be reversed.”

“What?”
she gasped.
“He agreed to this?”

“He did.” Lucifer grinned. “He seems to have grown cocky in His old age.”

“I can’t believe He consented! What can He be thinking?”

“That is precisely what we must discover,” Lucifer cautioned. “He’s surely got an ace hidden somewhere. We need to find it before committing ourselves to anything of consequence.”

“How can I be of service?” she asked, her enthusiasm clearly trebled.

“First, my trusted accomplice, by remembering that
no one else
must know
what I have told you,” Lucifer insisted. “When I am elevated to my rightful place in Heaven, proven loyalties will be rewarded; and proven disloyalty as well. Let the others reveal themselves
without
knowing what is at stake. Understand?”

“Rest assured, Bright One, your confidence in me is not misplaced.”

“Had I doubted you in the least, Kallaystra, I would have said nothing at all.”

“I am yours to command.” She fairly bubbled.

“Good. I thought we might start by cultivating a small conundrum for Joby to navigate—just to see what boils up at higher temperatures.” He went to his desk, glanced at Williamson’s report, then smiled at Kallaystra. “Reconnaissance suggests that the boy’s mother possesses a latent tendency toward anxiety, and the father attaches rather a lot of importance to his little boy’s budding masculinity. I thought we might employ your extraordinary skill with dreams to whip these small flaws into a proper froth.”

“Sounds fun.” Kallaystra grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

“Briefly, I want his mother driven to strangle the boy in apron strings, while his father worries that Joby isn’t ‘man enough.’ No matter what the child does, someone disapproves. Think you can manage it?”

“With ease, Bright One. Is that all?”

“Well, if you’re left with time on your hands, you might help me locate a fifth-grade teacher more resonant with our point of view than the one they’ve got at that school of his. Someone with a love of conformity and a severe allergy to imagination.”

“That will not be difficult, Bright One.”

“I won’t keep you then. Go with my profound appreciation.”

“To the triumph so long denied us.” She smiled, then vanished.

“Well . . . to
my
triumph, at any rate,” Lucifer murmured.

He was sure, of course, that she’d leak their little “secret” all over the cosmos. All Hell would soon be scrambling to assist him as he could never have coerced them to do directly.

“Had I doubted you in the slightest, my dear,” he said, chuckling softly.