The Everything Box (37 page)

“Boss,” said Baker.

“What?” yelled Mr. Lemmy, keeping an eye on the fanged weirdos.

“I lost my garlic.”

Mr. Lemmy felt around his neck. The rest of his men did the same.

“Hey. I think I found the box,” said one of his men. “Oh, nope. It's one of those little treasure chests from an aquarium.”

Mr. Lemmy started to call him something. He got as far as “ass—” before six little girls in gingham dresses pulled him from the fountain. His last thought was,
I would have switched to glitter
.

Salzman looked back over his shoulder. To his surprise, the boar wasn't behind him anymore. It was the puffer fish. The boar was running as fast as it could the other way.

“Shoot it!” he yelled and dove to the side of the vampire bar.

The Russians aimed their rifles and Zavulon pulled out a Tokarev pistol the size of a small dog. They all began firing at the same time.

Not that it did them much good.

The Russian thaumaturgic armor was designed to withstand bullets and magic, not a red-hot, one-ton spiked ball smashing into them like an infuriated bulldozer at thirty miles an hour. They were
tossed around not so much like bowling pins as like Barbie dolls in a cement mixer. When it was over, Fluffy lay on his side, slowly deflating, his iridescent glow fading. If any of the Russians had been able to glow, their glows would have been fading, too.

A minute later, when he was sure he was safe, Salzman crept from his hiding place, stepped over the Russians' bodies, and went back to searching for the box.

The boar continued its swift and gallant retreat from Fluffy, running straight past the Caleximus congregation, trying to get back to the elevator. As it neared the Abaddonians, they began to fall back to the escalator. Tommy didn't fall back. He just ran.

“Uh, Dark High One?” said Adept Six. “Perhaps we should think about, and please don't take this as a lack of faith, retreating just a bit?”

“Hold fast, everyone,” said the Magister. “Lord Abaddon will protect us.”

He threw out his arms and growled deep in his chest, intoning an eldritch undersea spell that hadn't been heard on land for thousands of years. It was a bubbling sound mixed with strange harmonic overtones, like bees in a bubble bath. The air around the Magister darkened. A pool of brackish water formed at his feet, smoking and boiling. The adepts and acolytes cheered their Magister—for most of them, it was the only time they'd ever seen him do anything even vaguely mystical (for Adept Six, it was the first time he'd seen the Magister do magic that might actually accomplish something). The Magister reached into the seething pool and drew out a handful of superheated seawater, a boiling ball of white-hot liquid plasma. Noting their master's seemingly awesome magic, the adepts and acolytes crept back up the escalator, fanning out behind him.

“Behold the wrath of Abaddon,” the Magister yelled. He reared back to throw the plasma, waiting for the boar to get close enough to see its demon eyes.

And his back went out.

He crumpled over and dropped the plasma on his foot. “Shit. Shit.
Shit,” he yelled, hopping and cursing as the air around him lightened and the water at his feet dried up.

“Adept Six,” he yelled. “Hold me, so I can smite this son of a bitch with a new spell. Adept Six?”

The Magister turned in time to see his loyal followers sprinting down the escalator and out of sight, Adept Six in the lead.

When the boar hit the Magister, the collision was so hard, he didn't really feel it. In fact, the only real sensation he had was when a certain vertebra slipped back into place beneath another vertebra. For that split second, the Magister's back felt great, and he crashed into the wall with a smile on his face.

The boar didn't think anything at the end, but if it could have, it would have been something along the lines of,
Well, damn. Here I am, a demon of the first order, with mighty tusks and hooves the size of porch swings, and it's all ending because some twerp decided to wax the floors,
just before it smashed headfirst into the balcony wall.

“No,” yelled Steve as he rushed to the fallen boar, dropping to his knees beside the crumpled giant. Jerry ran to his father.

“Dad? Dad? Maybe you shouldn't sit there,” he said. He and Jorge grabbed Steve's shoulders, trying to pull him away from the fallen beast.

“It's over,” said Steve. “It's all over.”

“Damn right,” said Jorge, giving the boar a kick. “Caleximus fucked us. Let's get out of here.”

“I don't get it. What did we do wrong?”

“Hey, man, I'm not sure this is a ‘we' situation.”

“What does that mean?” said Steve.

“It means you were the boss. You fucked something up. Plus, you let your brain-dead kid lose the silver dagger.”

Steve and Jorge grabbed each other and fell over onto the boar. Jerry pulled at his father's sleeve.

“Goddammit, Dad,” yelled Jerry. “Turn around.”

Steve looked over his shoulder at the horde of vampires and were
wolves, the ones that had missed out on Mr. Lemmy and his boys. Their fangs glittered jewel-like in the dark.

“Fuck Caleximus,” he said, and they all ran for the escalator.

Jerry had run track in high school, so even with his aching ribs, he was the fastest down all thirteen floors. When he hit the lobby level, he pumped a fist in the air and whooped. Everybody, the gill people, the ghosts, the human tourists, and the security guards, all stared at him.

When he turned and looked back up the escalator, he realized there was no one behind him.

“Oh, crap.”

Upstairs, a lone figure streaked with other people's blood came stumbling past the corpses, the dead beasts, and the mass of feeding bloodsuckers and wolves. They took absolutely no interest in the dead man at all.

Salzman made it all the way back to where the search had started. He stopped just a few feet away from Coop and thrust the box into his face, almost colliding with Coop's nose.

“I win,” he said.

“Excuse me,” said an old woman. She tapped Salzman on the shoulder. He looked down at her, wondering where the old biddy had come from.

“I've been looking for a box just like that for my niece,” she said.

“It's for her sweet sixteen,” said the old man by her side.

“Go away,” said Salzman.

“The box,” said the old woman. “We'd like to buy the box.”

“It's not for sale, Granny. Beat it.”

“You don't have to be rude about it,” said the old woman.

“Yes. Manners,” said the old man. He pulled a knife from his pocket and stabbed Salzman in the side. The old woman pulled her own knife and stabbed him in the other side. Salzman gasped. Being dead already, the knives couldn't kill him, but they sure stung like hell.

Leviathan and Beelzebub smiled wide, revealing as much of their faces as they could. Salzman, a man who'd been alive, then dead,
then sort of alive again, and was unused to surprises, was surprised. He stopped struggling with the knives for a second. It was the teeth that fascinated him. So big. So gray and dirty. So many bugs running around them.

And then Leviathan bit off his head, swallowing it whole. Salzman dropped the box and Beelzebub picked it up.

“I guess we win,” she said.

“Not necessarily,” said Coop.

“Not necessarily at all,” said Qaphsiel, strolling over from the elevator. He pushed past Coop and lunged at Beelzebub, snatching the box from her hands.

“It's mine,” Qaphsiel yelled, using his thundery voice. He held the box over his head. “Mankind, prepare to meet thy doom,” he said, and slowly, delicately—savoring every second of it—began to open the box's lid.

“Stop!” yelled the stranger.

“Do you have any idea who these people are?” said Bayliss.

Coop shrugged. “I gave up when the fish showed up.”

The stranger lay his hand over Qaphsiel's, pushing the box's lid down firmly. Qaphsiel looked at the stranger up and down in disbelief. “Raphael?” he said.

“Yes. It's I,” said the angel. “Your old friend Raphael. Embrace me, brother.”

Qaphsiel opened his arms to his old friend, and Raphael dove for the box, knocking Qaphsiel flat onto his back.

“What's wrong with you?” said Qaphsiel, struggling to his feet.

Raphael stepped back. “I can't let you do it, old friend. This world isn't going to be destroyed. Not tonight and not by you.”

“What are you talking about? This is my divine quest,” said Qaphsiel.

“It was. It's not anymore.”

“You've spoken to God?”

“Yes,” said Raphael brightly. “He said you should forget the whole quest and come back home.”

Qaphsiel frowned. “I know angels aren't supposed to lie, but I think you might be doing it right now.”

“Nope. That's exactly what he said.”

Qaphsiel's eyes narrowed. “I don't believe you.”

“Who cares? I have the box. It's over.”

It wasn't over.

Qaphsiel threw himself at Raphael, knocking the box from the angel's hand. It spun in the air, turning, somersaulting, and twirling, before smashing into the floor and breaking into a hundred pieces.

Nothing happened. There were no earthquakes. No volcanoes. No tidal waves. No one even got indigestion. The world remained very much intact. Raphael and Qaphsiel looked at Coop.

“Did I mention that's not the real box?” he said.

“But that's the box. I know it is,” said Qaphsiel.

“Maybe your memory is a little shaky after four thousand years.”

Raphael got to his feet. “Where is the real one?” said Raphael.

“I forget.”

“Maybe this'll help,” said a familiar voice.

Coop turned as the gun went off. He twisted and fell to the ground. Someone screamed. He hoped it was someone he knew and not one of the idiots. It meant someone liked him enough to care when he croaked.

Nelson walked over to him, moving the gun back and forth, keeping everyone covered. “Where's Salzman?” he said.

“Dead,” said Bayliss. “How did you find us?”

“He called me, you nitwit. The moment your pal here called him. But now he's dead. Boo-hoo. I guess the box is mine. Where is it?”

“Gosh, Mr. Wizard. I just can't remember,” said Coop as it gradually occurred to him that he wasn't dead and merely shot painfully in the arm.

Nelson put the muzzle of his gun to Coop's head. “I couldn't hear you. Where did you say it is?”

“Here,” shouted Bayliss. She took something out of Coop's bag and brought it over. Nelson snatched it from her.

“Oh, right. That's it,” said Qaphsiel. “I remember now.”

“Thanks for the confirmation, whoever the hell you are,” Nelson said. He turned back to Coop. “As for you, you pain in the ass . . .” His finger tightened on the trigger. But that's all it did, because a fraction
of a second later, there was a bang and a large, bloody hole appeared in Nelson's chest. He looked over at Bayliss, who kept her gun pointed at him. “I'm going to give you such a lousy review,” he said. And collapsed next to Coop. The box skittered from his hand across the floor.

Qaphsiel and Raphael dove for it. Qaphsiel was faster. “It's mine again,” he said. “After all these years.”

“Stop for one second and listen to me,” said Raphael.

“No more lies,” said Qaphsiel.

Raphael held up his hands. “Just the truth from here on. I didn't want to tell you the real reason you can't destroy the world.”

“Why?”

“Because it's going to upset you.” Raphael pulled a battered green folder from his coat pocket. Coop blinked. It looked exactly like the one he'd stolen from the Bellicose Manor safe.

“How did you . . . ?” he said, but couldn't get out the rest.

“What is that?” said Qaphsiel.

“The deed,” said Raphael.

“To what? The box?”

“To Earth.”

“Pardon me?” said Qaphsiel, his voice cracking a little.

“You heard me. God gave me the Earth. Well, not ‘gave it to me' gave it to me. I won it. Since you've been gone, he's developed quite a taste for Texas Hold'em. The problem is . . .” Raphael looked around conspiratorially and touched the side of his nose. “God's got a tell.”

Qaphsiel stared. “I've been here for four thousand years, searching and searching, and it meant nothing?”

“Not nothing,” said Raphael. “Everyone upstairs is very impressed with your stick-to-itiveness. They're even going to give you your old job back. Though I'm afraid after four thousand years, the office-supplies closet is a pretty big mess.”

Qaphsiel sat down on a bench against the wall. “This can't be real. The world can't be yours,” he said.

“I'm afraid it is. In fact, I've already been redecorating as I walked here. Little things at first. Then San Francisco. Soon I'll start on Los Angeles.” Raphael shook his head. “I'm sorry, old friend, but your
journey is null and void.” Raphael rolled the folder up and put it back in his pocket.

Coop tried to struggle to his feet. He put out his arm and Giselle helped him up.

“You should stay down,” she said.

“I want you to push me,” he said.

“What about the bomb?”

“There is no bomb. And if you care anything about me, push me.”

Giselle gave Coop a hard shove. He stumbled back, fell against Raphael, and slid to the ground. Raphael stared in revulsion at the blood streaked down his coat.

“You see what I'm talking about?” he said. “This is exactly the kind of thing that's going to stop now that I'm in charge. I'm going to make this world into a new Heaven.”

“That's ridiculous,” said Qaphsiel. “The Earth wasn't meant to be Heaven. It's a flawed place and meant to be so.”