The Book of Joby (91 page)

“I learned that you’re the best of us,” Ben said. “Though I don’t expect you to believe me. That what you been so afraid to hear all night?” He grinned.

When Joby looked doubtful, Ben just laughed and shook his head. “You are such a piece of work, bro. I don’t know who did it to you, but they sure did it good.” The laughter left him suddenly as he heard his own remark. There was one part of what he’d learned that night that did need discussing with Joby, and the sooner the better. They still had time, thank God, to avert what had happened to all three of them before, and Ben had no intention of letting that chance get away from him.

Leaning forward earnestly, Ben said, “Joby, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this thing with Laura. We need to talk again as soon as possible. I’ve decided—”

Before he could go further, Father Crombie reappeared carrying a plate mounded with shortbread cookies. “Gladys gave me these,” said the old man, smiling. “They are food for younger stomachs than my own, however.”

“You’ll have
one,
at least, I hope.” Ben grinned. “We can’t just eat them all while you sit there watching.”

“I will likely eat them all if someone doesn’t stop me.” Crombie grinned back. “That’s why I am bringing them to you.”

Ben saw Joby looking at him with understandable curiosity, and felt bad to leave him dangling, but the subject had been broached now. They’d get back to it soon enough.

“Actually,” Father Crombie said, setting the cookies down between them as he lowered himself back into his chair and resumed the conversation they’d been having, “it was a bit unsettling to see the Cup arrive that way this evening; an uncomfortable reminder of what an independent treasure we’ve all grown so dependent on here. It’s been behaving very strangely now for several months, and made quite a spectacle of itself yesterday in front of that storefront preacher, Mr. Cotter. We’ve had to put someone on guard around the clock in the chapel now. Alfred Cognolio is in there as we speak, making sure no one enters who should not. I spoke to him after returning tonight, of course—just before you boys arrived—and he claims to have seen or heard nothing at all during the Cup’s excursion. Had no idea it had left. So much for security.

“It has been decided that the Cup must be moved to some location much farther from town,” Crombie said somberly. “We are considering our choices, but whichever is chosen, it will mean the end of my role as primary guardian. I am too frail to go far from the church anymore.”

“I’m so sorry,” Joby said.

“I agree with the Council’s decision, of course,” Crombie nodded, “and
feel more privileged than I can say to have spent so many years in its presence. Still, I will miss—”

His voice was suddenly drowned out by Taubolt’s emergency siren.

With all the tourist traffic in Taubolt these days, the siren’s deafening wail was far less uncommon than it once had been, and at first they just fell silent. But when the siren continued instead of going off as usual after just a cycle or two, Crombie turned toward the rectory doors and murmured, “My goodness. What can be happening?”

“Let’s go out and see,” Joby said, rising from his chair.

“Got a pretty good view of town up here,” Ben agreed.

After helping Father Crombie to the door, they went out into the darkened yard and were shocked to see black smoke illuminated by the ruddy glow of flames billowing up just beyond the rectory garden fence.

“My God! It’s the church!” Joby gasped.

“Alfred!” Crombie barked. “He must be hurt, or he’d have come to warn us!”

“I’ll go check!” Ben called, running for the gate.

“Wait!” Crombie shouted. “If the Cup is still inside, I must get it!”

“If it’s there,
I’ll
get it!” Ben said, eager to be off. “Where is it kept?”

“No! You cannot breach the wards!” Crombie protested. “I must do it! Quickly, I need your help, boys!” He held his arms out for support as he hurried toward them with surprising speed, but still far too slowly.

Ben’s first thought was that Crombie was nuts, but he also realized that there was no place remotely closer than the rectory for this Alfred guy to have gone for help, or just to sound the alarm, and the fire had clearly been burning for a while, so he might still be inside, in who knew what condition, and the Cup there with him, just as Crombie feared.

Joby was already helping Crombie toward the gate, but if they had to do this, it had to be done faster. Ben ran back and simply hoisted the small man up over one shoulder. “Joby, get the hose!” he called returning to the gate. “Try to train it on the fire.”

Joby ran back to twist the faucet on and yank the coiled garden hose toward them.

“Wait,” Ben said as Joby reached them. “Soak us down with that.”

Seeing the fire now, Joby looked appalled. “You can’t go in there!” he said.

“We must!” Crombie protested. “The Cup! We cannot lose the Cup!”

“Hurry up, Joby,” Ben said. “Get us wet. We’ll be in and out in minutes.”

Already lost in planning as Joby complied, Ben hardly felt the water’s
chill. “Where are you keeping it?” Ben asked Crombie, who endured both his undignified perch and the soaking without complaint.

“In the sacristy, since the incident with Cotter. Just beside the altar.”

Good,
Ben thought,
not far inside the back door.
This might be easier than he’d feared. “Okay, that should do,” he said to Joby. “Bring the hose, and be ready to hit us again when we come out.” He was already loping toward the back steps of the church, Crombie still across his shoulder. “If we’re not out in a minute or two,” he called back as they neared the door, “break the sacristy window, and stick the hose in there.”

Happily, Crombie was so shrunken with age that he weighed almost nothing. Ben was up the steps with ease, and yanking at the door, which wouldn’t open.

“It’s locked,” Crombie said. “The key is back at the rectory. You’ll have to—”

Before he could finish, Ben set him down, waited while Crombie steadied himself, then drew back and launched a powerful kick at the door, which broke up like so much kindling, shuddering inward on its hinges. The building sucked a loud breath of air in around them through the doorway, then exhaled a blast of furnace heat that made Ben spin away to shield himself and Father Crombie.

“I’m not sure we can do this,” he said to Crombie.

“You stay here,” Crombie said, already shuffling toward the door. “I’m the one who must go in. I know the wards.”

“No way, Father,” Ben grunted, hoisting him again. “You ready?”

Crombie merely nodded his assent.

“Take the biggest breath you can,” Ben said, and did the same before charging through the door.

The heat was terrible, but not unsurvivable yet, Ben judged, as he turned, intending to dash across the altar into the sacristy. But there was a man lying facedown in front of the altar, unconscious, if not dead.

“Alfred!” Crombie croaked, and began to cough.

Ben set him on the floor, and shouted, “Don’t get up. The air’ll be better there.” Then he ran to crouch by Alfred, rolling him over to find a knife protruding from his stomach. His wilderness first-aid training rushing back, Ben checked for pulses, and lowered his ear to Alfred’s open mouth, but it was clearly too late for this one.

There was no time to wonder who had killed him, or why. Ben ran back to Crombie, coughing now as well, and fearful that their clothes might ignite
at any moment. The blaze had clearly started back toward the main doors, but it was racing forward now, probably on the draft they’d created by opening the back door. The altar hangings had begun to smolder

“Hurry!” Crombie moaned over the fire’s roar.

There was just time, Ben hoped, to get into the sacristy. Once there, he could smash the window and get them out through that.

“Take another breath!” Ben shouted. Crombie did so, but began to cough, and had to try again. Then, with Crombie bundled like a child in his arms, Ben sprinted for the sacristy door, kicked it in without setting Crombie down, and raced inside. Thankfully, the sacristy was still much cooler than the church had been.

He laid Crombie quickly on the floor, and turned to slam shut what remained of the now knobless door behind them, dragging a chair against it to help block out the heat for at least a few more minutes. Crombie was already crawling to his feet, chanting the words that would breach the wards, as Ben grabbed a tall metal candle stand and rushed to smash out the sacristy window, intent on letting in some air and preparing their exit.

Seconds later, as he scraped the frame clean of glass shards with the candle stand, a stream of water came through the broken widow, spattering his steaming shirt.
Good old Joby,
Ben thought with fierce affection. “We’re okay, Joby!” he shouted. “Keep the water coming!” He turned to Crombie and called, “Come here a second!” wanting to wet him down again as well, but the priest just shook his head, continuing to chant.

“There!” Crombie called, stepping forward to open the ornate metal box at which his chant had been directed. But when the doors parted, he only stood and gaped.

Ben rushed to his side, and saw the box was empty.

“We’re too late!” Crombie gasped. “It’s gone!”

Ben had never heard him sound so desolate.

“Jake! Gabriel, we need you!”
Swami shouted, running down the street in tears. It had come—the bad thing he had always feared—without any warning!
“Merlin! Help!”

The two archangels, dark and light, appeared simultaneously ahead of him, already deep in urgent conversation.

“Try to find the Cup,” Swami heard Jake say as he ran toward them. “Until we know where it’s gone, I’ve nowhere to send these people.”

“Jake!” Swami began as he reached them, but Jake held up a hand to silence
him, and Gabriel swept Swami into a comforting embrace as he and Jake continued talking.

“The Cup may not reveal itself to me,” Gabriel said, “especially if I am—”

“No more of that!” Jake cut him off. “I understand your concerns, but we must try, or all is truly lost. Take Swami. It isn’t safe to have him here now. Not with what he knows. His gift should be of help to you. The Cup will reveal itself to him if anyone, but he will need a guard.”

“No one will guard him more fiercely than I,” said Gabriel, “but we both know it will be no quick or easy task. Can you preserve this place until my return?”

“With Merlin’s help, perhaps,” Jake said. “What choice have we but to try?” A faint smile brushed his lips. “Lucifer’s dogs will find a small surprise awaiting them. The enchanter is already preparing it. Our Master bade me let them enter, He did not say
how
I must allow it. Go now. There is no more time. They come.”

When Ben’s face left the window, Joby tugged the hose closer, trying to get more water to them, but instead, the flow abruptly dribbled to nothing. Joby looked back to find the hose kinked in the rectory gate. He tried whipping it straight from where he stood, but couldn’t, and rushed back to straighten it by hand. He had just bent down to do so when the church behind him groaned ominously. As Joby turned to look, a roar like jet engines swept through the chapel, and all the windows blew out at once in gouts of flame. Joby whirled away as burning debris rained down upon the churchyard. When he turned back, flames belched from the sacristy window as well.