The Book of Joby (20 page)

When his dad sat down beside him, there was a funny sweet smell on his breath.

“How’d your day go, Joby?”

“Okay. I wrote a report on sea life.”

“You did, huh.” His father smiled.

“Yeah. For science, we’re studying things that live in the ocean. You should see, Dad! Crabs, and seashells, and sea enemies that shoot little poison darts into anything that touches them! Only they can’t hurt people, ’cause we’re too big—only little fish. And starfish walk on little tubes with suction cups on the end, and when they clamp down almost nothing can move ’em. And you know what, Dad? Up close, they’re like
monsters
! Last year, Mrs. Baker said monsters are just make-believe, but she’s wrong! They’re just real small!”

His father’s smile widened, and he ran a hand through Joby’s hair, raven black, like his own. “You really like science, huh?”

“Yeah,” Joby said. “I didn’t like plants much. But sea animals are cool.”

“I saw Tommy Stives’s dad at the health club after work today. He said you’ve been having trouble with that boy you fought with back in September. Is that true?”

Coming right out of the blue like that, the question left Joby feeling caught out and ashamed somehow, though his dad didn’t seem mad. He looked down and nodded. “We had a fight after school today . . . but—”

“Jack said Laura Bayer got hit,” his father said before Joby could tell him everything had come out all right.

“Yeah,” Joby said, “but she didn’t get hurt. Well, not too bad. She’s okay now.”

“Why was she involved, Joby?”

“She stood up to Jamie when he tried to fight me.”

“Why didn’t you stand up for yourself, son?”

“What? . . . Dad, I—”

“Has someone been telling you it’s wrong to fight?” His father was still smiling, but the smile seemed strained now. “Do they tell you that at church?”

“No,” Joby said, feeling worried. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell what it was. “Well, sometimes. But that’s not—”

“They’re
wrong,
Joby.” His father’s smile had vanished completely. He was definitely angry, and as he leaned closer to Joby, the sweet smell on his
breath got stronger. “It’s never okay to be a bully, son, but sometimes a man needs to stand up for himself, and then it’s not just okay to fight. It’s
right.
It’s
good.
Next time this bastard picks on you, you just flatten him. Understand? No son of mine needs little girls taking his falls.”

Joby wanted to tell his dad that Jamie and him were friends now; that Laura was proud of him; that Jamie wasn’t a
bastard.
But he didn’t dare speak. His father was mad at him, and he didn’t know what it was safe to say.

“I’m not mad at you, Joby,” his father said, sounding sad. He reached out to stroke Joby’s hair again. “I just want you to be proud of yourself.”

“I must say, Kallaystra, your versatility never ceases to amaze me.”

“You flatter me, Bright One, but I rather enjoy bartending, really. The Filling Station has such a wonderfully
distressed
clientele, and I’m such a good listener, you know.” She smiled thoughtfully. “The boy’s father is rather charming really, by
their
standards, and
very
good looking.” She giggled seductively, and Lucifer laughed as well. “The friction between him and the child’s mother should ignite very nicely any time now. The boy’s sudden interest in religion works greatly to our advantage in this as well.”

“Indeed,” Lucifer replied. “Williamson tells me your priest has Joby struggling with
pride
already. Imagine! Only
nine
!” he chortled. “What a precocious boy.”

“I knew you’d be pleased.”

“Oh yes. In fact, I’m especially happy about Richter’s admirable concern for . . . physical purity.” He chuckled softly. “Given our progress with Joby’s father, Richter’s paranoia provides some delicious opportunities to up the volume of Joby’s little conundrum, wouldn’t you say? Damned at home if he doesn’t want a woman, damned at church if he does. That’s always been one of my favorite recipes.”

“Bright One, the boy is only nine,” Kallaystra said. “Isn’t that a bit early to be thinking about sex?”

“The most fruitful seeds are planted well before the thaw, Kallaystra. How far ahead do you suppose the Enemy has planned?”

Her skepticism vanished in a grim nod. “Too true, Bright One. I’ll begin tilling the soil immediately.”

They were interrupted by a soft chime.

“That will be Williamson.” Lucifer frowned. “He’s overdue for one of his dreary reports.”

When he’d placed his hand against the dark obelisk beside the door,
however, his startled expression told Kallaystra that the message must be anything but dreary.

“Forgive me, Kallaystra,” he blurted out. “I think he may have found it!”

Lucifer vanished before she could ask who “he,” or what “it” was.

Laura had wisely left the meeting so that the knights could talk freely, and Bobby Lehan was now vehemently expressing his objections to Benjamin’s proposal.

“I never saw
you
stand up to Lindwald, Bobby,” Benjamin rebutted. “She’s been brave as any of us a whole bunch of times, and I say it’s
stupid
she can’t be a knight.”

“He’s right,” said Tony Esquivel. “Look how much she gets hurt all the time. She’s plenty tough to be a knight.”

“You’re just on her side ’cause she got you in, Tony!” Johnny Mayhew sneered.

“Tony’s in same as you,” Joby objected, “ ’cause he passed the tests, and we all wanted him.”

“Yeah, Johnny!”
Duane said. “Don’t be a jerk to Tony just ’cause you’re—”

“Shut up, Duane!” Johnny pouted. “You been kissin’ up to her ever since you knocked her outta that tree. If it weren’t for you, none of this’d be happening!”

“What’s your problem, Mayhew?” Joby asked. “Laura done something to you?”

“She’s . . .
This is not a club for girls!
” Johnny sputtered.
“Girls can’t be knights!”

“Yes they
can
!” Benjamin beamed. “I got
proof
!” He lifted a volume of the encyclopedia from the table in front of him. “I asked Mrs. Escobedo, and she—”

“Mrs. Escobedo!”
Johnny scoffed. “What does
she
know about being a knight?”

“Johnny, shut up and listen!” Joby insisted.

“Mrs. Escobedo showed me
this,
” Benjamin said, glaring at Johnny Mayhew. He opened to a marked page, and, to Johnny’s clear consternation, began reading the entry on Joan of Arc.

High up near the ceiling, two moths lay flat against the wall, watching the Roundtable’s proceedings in mothy silence. The larger insect was white with huge gray eyes, the smaller one, dark brown with bright black ones.

“Is he not a joy to behold, My Lord?” The stream of thought passing
between Gabriel and his Lord was filled with affection for Joby. “Look at how proud he is of Benjamin.”

“And of the girl,” the white moth agreed. “The three of them have become quite the little trio, haven’t they.”

“In truth,” Gabriel replied, “they often remind me of the very ones they imitate. She is much like Guinevere, and Arthur would certainly have taken a shine to Joby. Benjamin is so like Lancelot that, were his coloring darker, I’d—”

Gabe saw his Master’s wings quiver slightly, and sensed the soft puff of pheromones that passed for a smile among moths. Suddenly, the pieces fell together, causing his dark wings to flutter involuntarily.

“Surely . . .”
the dusky moth broadcast in the mental equivalent of a gasp, “You
can’t mean
—They’re not
really
—”

“I did promise them a second chance,” the white moth replied. “Remember?”

“But . . .
now
? I do not mean to question You, Lord, of course, but isn’t this contest challenging enough without throwing that knot into it as well?”

“I promised them,” the Creator insisted. “And if Lucifer should win, I’ll never have another chance to keep that promise.”

For a moment, Gabriel was struck speechless—even for a moth. “My Lord,” his mind whispered at last, “surely You do not
anticipate defeat
!”

“Perhaps He does,” came a sardonic mental voice from just behind them.

Both moths fluttered up and turned to land again facing the large, shiny black spider that had snuck up on them from above.

“Two moths out alone should be more careful,” the spider admonished. “What if I’d been hungry and failed to realize who you were in time?”

“You’d have found yourself in the arms of a six-inch praying mantis,” Gabriel blurted out, “getting your head chewed off!”

“Gabe,” the Creator sighed, folding His wings calmly behind Him. “Your goat.”

Gabe was too busy wondering how on earth the Creator had let Lucifer surprise them to puzzle out what goats had to do with anything.

The spider turned its many glassy eyes toward the escalating debate below. “So
that’s
Your
hidden ace,
” it said dryly. Its palps did that little dance that passed for laughter among spiders. “Was this the best You could do? Dust off a proven failure, and trot him back out for the most crucial wager in human history?”

“Arthur was hardly a failure, Lucifer,” the Creator replied. “If memory serves Me, you lost that wager, not I.”

“On a technicality,” the spider sneered. “And, if he didn’t fail,
technically,
he certainly didn’t succeed. In
my
book, that’s virtually the same thing. Two adulterous traitors, and an incestuous infanticide,” he said, dripping with disdain. “To
these
you give ‘second chances’—but not to
me.
”

“
They
were
sorry,
Lucifer,” the white moth replied.

“Sorry?”
Lucifer murmured. “When I’m in charge,
sorry
won’t be nearly good enough.” He turned his back on them then, and sidled up a strand of web toward the crack he’d come from. “I’d love to stay and gloat,” he broadcast back with a mental grin, “but now that I’ve glimpsed the rather pathetic card up Your sleeve, I have
adjustments
to make.”

In the room below, Laura was being escorted back into the library by her grinning champion, Sir Benjamin. Everyone was clapping, except for Johnny Mayhew, who left the room. But Joby didn’t seem to care about that. He just smiled at his two best friends with obvious pride and affection, clapping louder than anyone as they took their seats beside him at the table.