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  One of the devils, a female, moved slowly towards them. She looked at him contemptuously and slid past him as she advanced on Rhea.

  "Well, Avy," she said, "there's someone who wants to talk to you." She motioned with the knife. "But aside from your being able to talk, they don't much care what shape you're in."

  Rhea's face twisted with strain—then she blanched. The devil chuckled, "That's right, we've got a standing tap into three fallen angels to enforce a dead zone around you, and we're drawing on it now. Not a thing you can do. Okay, guys," she motioned the other devils forward. They grabbed Rhea's arms and legs. She struggled, but couldn't shake them. The first devil took her knife and slowly, deliberately traced a line across Rhea's cheek. It crimsoned with blood. Rhea screamed.

  The fear paralyzing Jack imploded into a white-hot ball of anger. He was moving almost before he realized it, throwing himself at the devil with the knife. "Leave her alone, you bitch!" he yelled. He'd never been any good in a fight and he was way out of his class here. Two of the male devils tried to catch him, but their hands slipped off of his as if he'd been greased. He slipped past them, too, unable to get hold of either one. He sprawled facedown in the aisle, and his face and the palms of his hands lit up with pain.

  Rhea was screaming behind him. They were hurting her. Cutting her. His anger cooled—cooled until it was arctic, until his pounding heart pumped ice water through his veins. Suddenly, he could think and his brain raced. He crawled towards his seat. One of the male devils eyed him and dismissed him. The female began to score Rhea's other cheek. Jack grabbed the picnic bag. He fumbled, and willed his hands not to shake; he had no time for clumsiness. He grabbed the Super-Soaker inside. A child's toy. He wished he had a bazooka. He'd only hoped he and Rhea might cross paths with some gremlins so he could test his theory before he shot the Super-Soaker into the innards of his printer.

  The female saw him. Her lips drew back in a smirk.

  He pulled the trigger.

  All Hell broke loose. The devils screamed. Rhea screamed. Fire and smoke filled the car. He felt the heat, but it didn't burn. Then suddenly there was silence. Nothing. He couldn't see anything—the smoke filled the air, dense as heavy fog. I shouldn't be able to breathe, he thought, but he was breathing just fine.

  A hand grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet, and Rhea shouted in his ear, "Come on!"

  Then he was lying on asphalt. They were in the parking lot. He had no memory of getting there. His clothes smelled of smoke. Rhea braced and levered him to his feet. Blood covered her face, but the fear was less evident in her eyes.

  "We've got to get out of here," she said. "The parking lot guards are coming, and we aren't going to have any explanations."

  They were beside his Camry. In a daze he pulled out his keys and opened the door. Rhea walked around behind and yanked hard on something. He heard metal give. She slid into the passenger side holding the license plate and frame.

  Through the gaps in the cars parked around them, Jack could see small shapes approaching. Small shapes with pointed ears and tails: Lot demons.

  "Go, go!" Rhea said. "Those are lower level. Not too bright—we can lose them." The demons were within a car's length of them now. Jack turned the key. There was a hollow click from underneath the hood.

  "It's that goddamn starter," he yelled and threw open the door. "I've got to hit it."

  "No!" Rhea grabbed him, his legs out the door. He felt her shift and something went thunk in the engine compartment. "Try it again." There were demons on the hood now.

  He slammed the door and turned the key. This time the engine purred into life. Jack ground the gears into reverse and popped the clutch. The car leapt backwards, shedding some demons, rolling over others. "You're going to get a huge bill for those," Rhea yelled. "I'll pay it."

  One stuck its hands through the door and grabbed at Rhea. She kicked it viciously.

  Jack hit first and sped for the main lot gate, leaping a curb and running down the sidewalk once to bypass the line of cars leaving the park. The demons gave up pursuit at the park boundary. "Standing orders," Rhea said.

  Jack didn't honor a single traffic light or speed limit sign until they were thirty miles inland. Then suddenly he was shaking so badly he couldn't drive. He managed to pull into the empty parking lot of a small church where he killed the engine. He started sobbing uncontrollably. Rhea leaned over and held him close until he stopped.

  "I was so scared they were going to kill you," he said finally, when he could speak again.

  Rhea stroked his hair tenderly. "Scared men have stormed a lot of beaches," she said. She paused. "What did you do to them?"

  "Holy water," Jack said. "You don't have to believe in it—it just works." He laughed without humor. "I was hoping to find some gremlins to try it on."

  Rhea frowned. "But holy water hasn't worked since—"

  "Since Church Latin started diverging from Classical Latin?" He shrugged. "Retrolinguisticians have been reconstructing lots of languages lately. I found a priest liberal enough to try the result."

  Rhea nodded. "You were lucky. Holy water can drive demons, but devils, even low level ones, it only hurts. You heard those." She shuddered. "They were channeling a lot of power. You hurt them; they dropped the ball and it backed up on them. They'll probably have to be completely reconstituted."

  "Just add water," Jack muttered. "My heart bleeds for them." He looked at Rhea. Her hair was blackened with streaks of soot; her once white shorts were gray and grimy, and her face was cut and covered with dried blood. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. "I've got some Wet Ones in the trunk," he said.

  Rhea winced as he applied the soft towelette to her face. "Do you want to go to the doctor?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "I heal fast."

  She wasn't kidding. When she washed off the blood, he could see that the cuts had already closed; her cheeks bore two red lines and the palms of her hands bore more, but he was willing to bet in a few days there wouldn't even be a scar.

  They could hurt her, but not him. They couldn't even touch him. She knew what they were doing, she knew what they were after, she knew they'd been channeling energy—whatever the hell that was—she knew about holy water and what it would work on and what it wouldn't.

  And now he knew some things he'd only wondered about before.

  It didn't matter. It just didn't matter. Jack came to a decision. After they cleaned up, he said, "I wanted to give this to you this evening." He reached into his pocket. "But I think the location is more appropriate here. And, well, life's too short to wait for perfect moments." He handed Rhea the small box.

  She raised the cover to reveal a perfect band of silver. It caught the late afternoon sun and gleamed like a beacon. "Oh, Jack," she breathed, "it's beautiful!" For an instant her face was radiant, angelic. Then a cloud passed across her features and the smile vanished. She said flatly, "But I can't accept it."

  Chapter 52

  Miramuel shivered. "They almost got her, Remmy."

  "I know. I felt it, too."

  "We could have been with her," Mir whispered. "We could have stopped them."

  Remufel crouched smaller in the kitchen and hugged his knees. "But we've almost been caught down here a couple of times already. If we'd saved her, we would have showed up on Heaven's monitors for sure. And then we'd get dragged back. Maybe this near-disaster will be enough to show her that she has to leave with us."

  "What if it isn't? We're running out of time. The Almighty can't stay on vacation forever. When He comes back, if we haven't won her back... you know what's going to happen."

  "We're going to end up in Hell."

  "I can hear it now. Direct contravention of orders. A couple hundred counts of physical intervention on the material plane. Fraternization with the enemy." Miramuel's face was expressionless.

  "We could go back now. Ask forgiveness. We'll be dropped back a bunch of ranks, and censured—probably have to do remedial work in
the files or something for a while. But we wouldn't go to Hell." Remufel didn't sound enthused about this plan. He sounded more like he was playing devil's advocate. A dangerous game in Heaven.

  Miramuel looked over at him and a single tear started down one cheek. "We didn't stand behind her before. We didn't speak up for her. She's the best friend I ever had, Remmy. The best, and I stood on the side of the angels and watched her sentenced to Hell... and none of us spoke for her. I won't let it happen again. Not again."

  "I was there, too. I know. I know. I was just saying—"

  "Well, don't!" Mir glared at him. "Don't! This is the only chance we're ever going to get to rescue her. The only time when the Omnipotent One isn't watching, when we can follow our hearts and maybe bring her home. If Lucifer gets hold of her again, after what she's done this time, he'll destroy her. It will be a billion years before she pulls enough of her atoms together to even regain some awareness of what she once was... and she'll never be Averial as we know her again. Never. We have to make this work."

  Remufel thought for a moment. Then he said, "We could tell her why we're here."

  "When we didn't stand behind her before? You think she'll believe we're risking Eternity just to get her back home after all this time?"

  "No." Remmy sighed. "But she's learning to love again. Surely He won't let her go back to Hell."

  "She hasn't truly learned love, yet... and, worse, she's duplicated Lucifer's sin. She's handed them knowledge they didn't earn."

  "Not because she wanted things to be easy for them!"

  "You think that will matter?" Miramuel glared at him.

  "I don't know."

  "It won't!"

  "Then we're already doomed."

  "Probably. But I'm not giving up until we're in the Pit."

  Chapter 53

  Glibspet chuckled as he turned off his terminal and unhooked the red modem. It was hotter than usual, and sizzled softly as he grabbed it with a damp rag. He could read between the lines as well as anyone—better than most. The official report had been terse, but between that, the freshly posted infernal environmental hazard warning, and the news of four devils being repitted, he could tell what was what.

  His employers had screwed up big-time. They must have had Averial right in their grasp, at Devil's Point of all places. Well, actually, he supposed, it was the last place anyone would look for her. He certainly hadn't been looking there. She'd just had the bad luck to run into the only devil there who was dull enough to read all the official traffic from down under, and sensitive enough to realize that she was shielded and not just vapid. He'd have to get in touch with the library devil soon—that one might make a valuable resource.

  The Three Stooges figured they had her dead to rights, and they'd gotten cocky. They didn't hurry to the scene in person, didn't even alert the park guards until their cat's-paws had run into the first true holy water reported in the last who knew how many centuries. The Idiot Trio could trace her 'port to the lot, but after that, she was back in God's territory, and the fallen angels hadn't gained a single clue. Glibspet frowned. The only downside was that they would be even more frantic now than they'd been before, and their fear was sure to have a direct effect on their dealings with him.

  Luckily, he thought he had a solid lead. He'd finally come across an insurance claim that had paid out, with someone willing to say she'd seen the decedent still alive. It was in the right time period, and the complainant had nothing to gain. Now what was the name the company had paid out for? He flipped through the notes Craig had made.

  There it was: Rheabeth Samuels.

  Chapter 54

  IBM Lands Devil's Point Contract

  Research Triangle Park—Raleigh News & Courier

  Beleaguered computer giant IBM announced Friday that it has secured the master automation contract for the massive and controversial Devil's Point amusement park in coastal Pender County.

  "I think this contract confirms IBM's continued commercial viability," said Triangle Park Division Manager William Emerson. "It plays to our strengths, and I'm confidant we will be able to give North Carolina's Unchained citizens and corporations the same kind of technical expertise and service that has made our reputation."

  "None of their systems talk to anything else, or to each other," said Devil's Point's chief automation officer, Fellanol, a Fallen angel. "You have to pay extra for TCP/IP and their mainframe operating systems are a disaster. Their systems belong in Hell."

  In IBM's Triangle facilities, which have been subject to numerous layoffs during the past several years, spontaneous celebrations erupted at the news; at the height of the festivities, several employees were seen to loosen their ties.

  * * *

  Jan buzzed Rhea. "Line one," she said, "I don't think you're going to like it." There had been a lot of things Rhea hadn't liked lately. Almost being captured not least among them. She hurt most because she didn't dare tell Jack the truth about why she'd turned him down. Damn it, why did he have to want to marry her? She couldn't say yes without telling him the complete truth before the ceremony. And she knew she'd really hurt him with her flat refusal and her unwillingness to give him any reasons.

  Her phone beeped again. Rhea sighed and picked it up. "Rheabeth Samuels," she said.

  "Ms. Samuels—" Rhea disliked the voice on the other end immediately. "This is John Dent, chief auditor with TRITEL."

  Please, not another money fight, she thought. "Yes?" she said.

  "You have three hundred million of our dollars."

  "Your company made a three hundred million dollar investment in my company—yes," she corrected.

  "No, we did not."

  Rhea's gut knotted and she sat up straight. "What do you mean, you didn't?"

  "No such decision ever came before the board; no such disbursement was ever authorized. Believe me, I would know."

  "What are you talking about? I signed a contract with Al Roberts. The initial financial transfer went without a hitch."

  "Mr. Roberts is a mid-level executive. His authority does not extend to taking on obligations of this magnitude without board approval. And, I might add, he has been missing for the last three weeks."

  "He came to me with an assurance that he had full clearance, and the check was signed by whoever it is at your end that has authority to sign checks. He must have skipped your board and cleared it directly with your top people."

  "Mr. Williams, our president and CEO, died unexpectedly last week," Dent said. "Heart attack. But I'm sure he would have left some kind of mention of a deal like this with his board. In his papers. Somewhere around here." Dent cleared his throat. "No, Ms. Samuels, you have stolen our funds."

  "The hell I have!" Rhea yelled, then calmed herself forcibly. "No. I haven't stolen your funds. And I'm equally sure that this screw-up originates on your end, and that our deal with TRITEL is rock-solid. However, if for just a moment, I imagine that it isn't, and that somehow Al Roberts got access to your funds without the authorization he said he had, what do you want me to do about it?"

  "It's quite simple. We want our money back."

  "Impossible," snapped Rhea. "I'm not a bank. I don't keep money in a vault. I use it to make more money. TRITEL's money is in large chunks of a rocket in Manteo that is about ready for its first launch."

  "I suggest you find a way to liquidate, then. We will sue if we have to, Ms. Samuels. These things can get messy."

  "You have no idea how messy they can get," Rhea said softly. She hung up the phone, and all her conviction emptied out of her, as if she'd been a balloon punctured by a bullet.

  She closed her eyes and put her head in her hands.

  Chapter 55

  Jack was not whistling. In fact, he hadn't even felt like turning the radio on for days. He'd cleaned the gremlins out of everything and he really didn't think they'd be back again. Getting rid of the smell of fried gremlin from the office had taken the steady application of Lysol spray, and even now he thought he could s
till catch a faint, sulphurous whiff from time to time. Other than that, he concentrated on working. It kept him from thinking about Rhea. He'd thought he knew her, knew her well enough to know that she loved him as much as he loved her—but this was like Carol all over again.

  He closed down the diagram he was working on and marked it done. It was solid if not inspired.

  "Jack."

  He whirled in his chair. It was Rhea. "Yes?" he said shortly.

  She stood in the doorway, not coming into the office. The hall lights lit her in outline. God, she's beautiful, he thought. "We've got to bump the schedule up," she said.

  Okay, if she wanted to play it all business, he was happy to play along. The schedule was already tight, though. "How much?" he asked.

  "Two weeks," she said.

  He leaned back in his chair. "Impossible," he said. "Can't be done."

  Rhea stepped into the room. "It has to be done," she said softly. "TRITEL is pulling out, retroactively. If we can't get the bird up in two weeks, it's never going to fly."

  "I used to think I could do the impossible," Jack said. "Maybe I was motivated then. But I tell you right now that the schedule I gave you is the absolute best we can do, and it's barely possible." He crossed his arms on his chest. "And if you don't like my pace, I can always go to Rockwell." He regretted the words as he was saying them, but he wasn't going to back down.

  Rhea flinched as though he had hit her and her hands tightened into fists. "You've got a contract," she said. "With a two weeks' notice clause. You're not going anywhere."

  "If you want to spend money from a bankrupt company suing me, that's fine. But the only contracts I worry about are signed in blood." She flinched again. Yeah, he'd known she would. "You're going to have a hell of a time enforcing my contract."